We all know what Luna Maya did last summer, or whenever the sex video allegedly showing her with singer Ariel was filmed. Everybody watched it; even the holdouts eventually succumbed just to be able to keep up with the conversation in June’s big trending topic.

It was the porn scandal that titillated the country. It made watching consenting adults without their consent a communal activity; it was like being in high school again, our hormones in overdrive, swapping porn or watching it with a group of friends when our parents weren’t home.

Before long, some of us just wanted them to put their clothes back on.

But nobody considered themselves to be shameful peeping Toms. We became (adult) film critics, comparing technique and joking about developing “Cut Tari neck” (due to the uncomfortable angle required to get a full view of the second film, allegedly featuring the gossip-show presenter).

Taxi driver “Ruslan” was a fan. After bluetoothing one of the videos with his colleagues, he expressed in graphic terms his evaluation of the woman’s physical attributes.

“We know what ordinary people look like, but it’s something special when you see a celebrity doing it,” he said, listing his collection of celebrities in compromising positions, from the starlets-in-the-toilet video to the politician-and-the-dangdut-singer.

We felt entitled to see the celebrities with their pants around their knees, to size them up and cut them down, both for their lack of judgment and for their physiques. If they did not want others to see it, well, they shouldn’t have filmed it: thus was the common sentiment. The alleged perpetrator, Ariel, was unthinking, silly and vain, for filming himself with the women and not realizing it could come back to haunt him.

The “Peterporn” storm, of course, confirms the prying and undying human interest in what others look like in the buff. But it also attests to how the modern scourge of narcissism — primping and preening, and admiring ourselves in all our glory — makes for dangerous liaisons with modern technology.

We have come to claim the term narsis proudly and defiantly — perhaps not realizing that it refers to a definable psychological condition — for our everyday shows of vanity, striking a pose for BBs, the images for instant upload to FB accounts.

It’s the narcissist in us that puts ourselves out there for the world to see, on MySpace, Facebook, in chatrooms and blogs.

But do we know a narcissist when we see one, even when he or she is staring at us in the mirror?

Look at me!

A once rare condition limited to Greek pretty boys and celebrities with delusions of grandeur, narcissism has gone public in the modern world, Jean M. Twenge and W. Keith Campbell write in The Narcissism Epidemic.

The psychologists believe the epidemic began in the United States, with the baby boomers of the 1950s growing up to believe their individual desires and consumerist wants were more important than the rest of society. Taking care of number one became the mantra of the new generation, “The Me Generation”, as US writer Tom Wolfe titled his prescient 1976 article. That focus on the individual has persisted among later generations, who are taught from an early age that their needs come first.

From the inclusive “enjoy yourself with your friends” message, ads now focus on the individual consumer as special, unique and deserving to have things his or her own way (actually the tagline, in different forms, for ad campaigns by two burger chains).

But isn’t that only true of the United States, not us in our collective, let’s-pull-together society? Twenge and Campbell argue that the United States has successfully exported its modern culture around most of the world, from the fast food joints lining the city streets to the sitcoms and talent/reality shows dominating the airwaves.

Media and the Internet propagate the US way of life, including behavior. Some would argue that Indonesia, a collective society in which people are externally controlled, needing affirmation and approval from their peers, is fertile ground for this new narcissism, especially with the growth of consumerism and material status.

Through the new media of social networking, we can freely present the face we want the world to see, no matter how far it is from the truth.

Also fitting into the narcissistic complex is the growing obsession with looking good, from easily available plastic surgery to fitness centers that promise the body beautiful — along with the credit card-fueled lifestyle that says spend, spend, spend, even if the money is not in the bank.

Do it, you are entitled to, just for being you.

There are the star-struck youngsters who take part in talent shows not because they want to be a great singer or actor or entertainer, but a celebrity, with all the money, fame and adoration that it promises.

Consider a recent addition: “Miss Celebrity” — we kid you not — in which women compete to be named the most suitable for the celebrity lifestyle.

The budding narcissists lap up the attention. They want to be part of reality TV, even though programs show contestants at their worst, because it leads to fame. One local TV show has a comedian hypnotize people on the streets of Jakarta, who then reveal the secrets of their lives. A recent episode featured a young couple at a Jakarta bus terminal: the man revealed under hypnosis that he lusted after the woman’s male cousin, and was using her to get to him.

The segment was broadcast with their full consent.

I’m the one that I want

But hang on — Isn’t it good to be confident and to march on in trying to achieve our goals?

Sure it is, Twenge and Campbell say, but most narcissists are no better than their peers — they just see themselves as superior, in their self-loving viewpoint.

It becomes a big problem for society when almost everybody — their attitudes shaped by ubiquitous media images and the behavior of narcissistic celebrities — starts believing that expecting to get your own way all the time is appropriate.

“Narcissists might brag about their achievements [while blaming others for their shortcomings], focus on their physical appearance, value material goods that display status … constantly turn the conversation back to themselves, manipulate and cheat to get ahead, surround themselves with people who look up to them [such as a ‘posse’ or entourage], seek out ‘trophy partners’ who make them look good, and jump at opportunities to garner attention and fame,” they write.

It’s a definition that, here and there, could apply to many of us and our friends. The major difference between the true narcissist and the person a little bit too hung up on material goods or on showing off their gym-buffed buns of steel is that the narcissist, regardless of whether they are a vain celebrity or the ruthless office no-talent, does not care less what anybody else thinks.

Likewise, just as some of us wish to record our most private moments — or even private parts — for posterity, we also brandish a sense of entitlement that we can — we really should — judge others for their transgressions, whether it’s the slow-witted waiter, the superstars’ naked shame or people who just aren’t up to our standards of attractiveness.

“The high self-esteem person who’s not narcissistic values relationships, but the narcissist does not … Because narcissists don’t value warm or caring relationships, they can do all this with little concern for others, often manipulating and exploiting people and viewing others as tools to make themselves look and feel good,” Twenge and Campbell contend.

When we do win (the narcissist justifies any which way to get ahead), we are supposed to laud it over others, punctuated by a fist pump or a shout of triumph. Goodbye to the gracious winner.

Twenge and Campbell recount that IOC president Jacques Rogge complained of Usain Bolt’s “lack of sportsmanship” in beating his chest 20 meters from the finish line. Rogge was panned by the media as an old-fashioned fuddy-duddy who did not understand that Bolt was merely expressing his pride.

“The virus has accomplished its goal: narcissism is now seen as normal, even good,” they write. “If you’re not narcissistic, you’re not with it.”

 
Ready for my close-up

Technology is the narcissist’s dream. People do not need to interact, or have a connection, from their computer terminal, but can operate their lives on their own terms through their cyber-shaped fantasy personas.

Technology has made us the stars of our own show, living up to Andy Warhol’s prediction that everyone will be famous for 15 minutes. Make that 15 seconds, or just famous to 15 people, the writers say. The lip-synching twosome from Bandung, Sinta and Jojo, are the hottest properties in entertainment thanks to their YouTube video.

“Anyone with a computer and an Internet connection can gain some amount of fame. You can review a book on amazon.com, write a blog entry, comment on a blog, put up a website, or film yourself doing something stupid, violent, funny or pornographic,” Twenge and Campbell say, adding that YouTube is the “ground zero” for the bids for fame.

We expect all-access privileges into the lives of the rich and famous, but of course we ourselves are laid bare for others to see. Nothing is private anymore: a carelessly invective SMS will live on in cyberspace, as will a cringe-inducing emotional status update on Facebook; CCTV documents an irate customer losing it at the coffee shop, for them to lose face later in the day; the stalker prowls Twitter, catching his or her prey unaware, stealing a peek at their life.

Not that it would worry the narcissist, to whom it is no more than a validation of his or her exalted place in the world.

The cyber-sphere allows us to be the bully and/or bighead that we cannot be in the real world. We can speak unhindered, dominating the conversation with little fear of reprisals. Vents — on websites or blogs — are the ultimate form of nonconfrontational aggression.

“[The Internet] has also broken down our sense of shame,” wrote IT columnist Jeremy Wagstaff in July, after his Wikipedia page was hacked. “Things we’d never say or do we do and say online because we’re pretty sure we’re not going to be found out. With every caustic remark or snarky put-down we feel a bit smarter, and we make everyone else feel a bit less comfortable.”

Psychologist Ratih Ibrahim defines the lack of social interaction as a growing problem among young people, hooked on games and cyber communication, but unable to communicate face to face.

“The social contact that occurs is imaginary, and you cannot exchange the two. It’s physical contact that enables people to develop their social skills … They find that playing games on the Internet and communicating by email is enjoyable … and if it continues, they may avoid socializing and social activities.”

She warns that such behavior can, in pronounced cases, lead to psychosis and other personality disorders, including clinical narcissism.

Meanie me

Lighten up, you mutter. Come on, it’s fun to see other people making fools of themselves and exercise your wit about it.

As long as it isn’t us.

In the past 20 years, cynicism has been given free rein in entertainment. The Dumb and Dumber poop-and-fart joke phenomenon spawned much of the same, with people shown at their worst on reality TV. We don’t have the gentle Candid Camera TV programs of the past, but rather ones that push people to their emotional boiling points. It’s no longer the art of the put-down, they are just put down.

One of the most egregious local examples is the show Take Them Out Indonesia, broadcast nightly, a dating game where contestants try to win the affections of the panel of either female or male partners, and avoid the humiliation of every red light blaring to signal their rejection.

The comments are often downright mean — you’re too fat, too thin, too old, just not pretty enough — but however they are couched, the message is the same: you’re not my level, loser.

The culture of meanness persists because, Twenge and Campbell would argue, narcissists want to hear nothing but the sound of their own voice.

Take the online reaction to the YouTube video of Lindsay Lohan’s sentencing to do time for violating her probation in July. Her pleading with the judge prompted numerous withering comments: the actress was a cokehead and a lesbian (most posters were not as circumspect in their language); the more vicious among them suggested she should OD and die.

It could be a case of taking one to know one. For while the posters were narcissistic in insisting on spewing their vitriol, Lohan also fits the classic definition of a narcissist, breaking the law simply because she feels entitled to do things her way.

She is Lindsay Lohan, after all.

“I have such an impact on our younger generations, as well as generations older than me,” Twenge and Campbell quote her writing to a newspaper after an unflattering article about her.

Oh no she didn’t? Oh yes she did. And she signed it, “Your entertainer”.

Show of concern

Narcissists realize they need to keep up appearances, especially if looking good helps them get further ahead. In their evisceration of the culture of celebrity, Hollywood Interrupted, Andrew Breitbart and Mark Ebner argue that many of the celebrities pushing causes are in fact suffering from narcissistic personality disorder.

Despite that inflated sense of self, the stars realize they have to at least appear to care.

“Obsessed with appearing empathetic, modern celebrities make top-tier PC carriers as they appoint themselves our secular saints anointed to overlook and protect the rest of us,” they say.

“The less raw talent or tangible human qualities a celebrity possesses … the more PC PR CPR they need. That’s why supermodels are so drawn to causes that supposedly prove how warm, caring and morally upstanding they are, like the PETA animal rights movement.”

It may be a harsh and generalized perspective, but supermodel Naomi Campbell would appear to fit the narcissist definition of distorted entitlement very nicely. She threatened to go naked rather than wear fur for PETA, but she went back on her promise anyway. And that penchant for beating up on various assistants over the years shows a callous lack of regard for others.

Dying for attention

Many serial killers revel in the notoriety that will come from their deeds, according to The Narcissism Epidemic. Seung-Hui Cho, who killed 32 people at Virginia Tech, saw himself as a martyr and compared himself to Jesus Christ (he conveniently sent a package of letters and papers about himself to a media outlet). The Columbine High School duo also wondered whether Steven Spielberg or Quentin Tarantino would direct their biopics.

Indonesia’s most notorious serial killer, Ryan, who killed at least 11 people, had been variously a Koranic teacher and an aerobics instructor. From his cell, he gave interviews alleging dalliances with various celebrities, and reportedly loved the attention.

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