dailynewsfromaolf.substack.com By Etienne de la Boetie2
by Joshua Stylman
The Anti-Human Nature of Fame
The other day, I found my high school yearbook. My kids were flipping through it, laughing at old photos and hairstyles, and one of them paused, surprised. “You and your friends were in all these clubs?” Debate, theater, student council, wrestling—page after page of awkward group photos and teenage optimism.
It made me smile. I hadn’t thought about that version of myself in a long time. I told them the truth: I joined everything, not because I had it all figured out, but because I didn’t. When you’re a kid, you need spaces like that—launching pads for connection, experiments in identity. Trying things on. Figuring out where you fit, and just as often, where you don’t.
These days, I’ve taken on more of the Groucho Marx philosophy—I’d never join a club that would have me as a member—but back then, those communities mattered. They were real. Messy. Human. They involved showing up, in person, with all your imperfections. There were no filters. No followers. No likes.
Most importantly, they weren’t content. We joined because we cared about the thing itself—the debate, the play, the game—and because we were hanging with friends who were actually there. Success wasn’t measured in views or engagement, but in whether you got better, whether you belonged, whether you contributed something real.
That’s what’s been on my mind lately: what it means to grow up in a world where being known has been untethered from being known by the people around you, where every human experience gets filtered through the question of whether it’s worth posting.
The Economic Engine of Performance
There is something deeply unnatural about being famous—or even semi-famous—outside the borders of your own community. Once, reputation was earned slowly, through presence and action. Now, you can be ‘known’ by millions who don’t actually know you at all…
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