Article
Culture
Music
Taylor Swift
6 min read

Taylor’s truth: how superstar authenticity appeals

As Taylor Swift fans took over his town, Nathan Betts contemplates the truth at the heart of the superstar’s appeal.

Nathan is a speaker and writer on topics related to faith, life and God. He lives near Seattle, Washington. His writing is featured frequently in The Seattle Times. nathanbetts.com

Taylor Swift wears a long yellow dress and signs with an outstretched arm against a backdrop of woods and a close up her singing beside it.
Taylor Swift performing on the Eras Tour.
Paolo V, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

If you have been paying any attention to Taylor Swift’s most recent tour, you will know why the last several months have been termed The Summer of Taylor Swift. The artist has traveled across America, boosting economies en route, and filling stadiums with contagious happiness.  

I hadn’t realized the enormous impact Swift had made on entire cities until I was walking downtown Seattle earlier this summer for a Mariners baseball game. While walking from my car to the stadium I encountered an endless sea of Taylor Swift fans waiting outside the stadium in the early afternoon for her show that would begin that evening. I had heard about Taylor Swift before, had listened to her music, but seeing what I saw that day told me something more profound about her and something about us as human beings.  

But what I saw on the downtown streets of Seattle leading up to Taylor Swift’s concert was different. 

In recent history, we have seen different artists such as The Rolling Stones and AC/DC elicit strange (and frankly awkward) adulation where people throw their clothes onto the stage. U2 concerts have been hailed as a religious experience in which stadiums become cathedrals. And more recently, Justin Bieber gave many “Bieber Fever.”  

But what I saw on the downtown streets of Seattle leading up to Taylor Swift’s concert was different. I’ve been trying to pinpoint what it was exactly that struck me that day. People of all ages packed into surrounding streets in Taylor Swift attire, countless groups lustily singing her songs, cars and vans marked up with Taylor Swift song lyrics. There was a unity, a togetherness and distinct humanity to it all. The feeling was more akin to a spiritual revival than merely a big stadium concert rolling into town. 

I remember coming back home that evening and texting friends to see what they made of it. My question was: “What is it about Taylor Swift that has enabled her to connect with so many?” The answers I received all struck the same notes: A Taylor Swift concert was the best they had ever experienced. But more than the concert, it’s the vibe, the pure joy and happiness that you experience with everyone at the concert. There is something about her that makes people feel happy. And although she is a stratospheric star, she has deliberately made a point of seeming like the girl next store. People think and feel that she is their friend. She is relatable.  

If you are a Taylor Swift fan, you already know this. But as these thoughts about Taylor Swift rumbled through my brain for weeks after that experience, they took on a greater meaning during a lunch meeting I had with a friend back from college for the summer. Midway through our time together he asked me, “How do you deal with people who are fake?” The pensive look on my face revealed that I wasn’t exactly sure what he was asking, so he sharpened the question: “How do you deal with people who are hypocrites?”  

I now understood what he was getting at. He gave a few examples of friends and leaders around him who had acted in hypocritical ways. He saw through it.  Although he had moved on from those relationships, the jagged edges of hypocrisy still dug into him. They hurt. My friend was asking me how or if it’s even possible to trust in people who let you down.  

The truth is, I’ve lost count of the conversations I’ve had with people who have asked or expressed the same question. And yet, when my friend asked me this question, I wasn’t sure what to say. 

I offered just one thought: “What if the antidote to hypocrisy is the real thing? As in, what if the medicine for the disingenuous and fake is seeing a life that is genuine and real—a person who is true, honest, who lives a life of integrity? 

And in Taylor Swift, we’ve found a companion who knows the struggle of life and invites us to join her. 

This is where my mind came back to Taylor Swift and why it is that millions of us feel a real connection to her. The answer is nuanced, to be sure, but I wonder if part of it has to do with the fact that when we see or hear Taylor Swift, we experience a person who comes across as real. Perhaps more than in recent memory, we as a society have a low tolerance for BS. Yet, despite our abhorrence for the fake, our attraction to the real and authentic has grown just as strongly.  

Enter Taylor Swift. Among other qualities, Swift is not a fake. Isobel Jones, a cradle Swiftie, recently explained this to me:  

‘Taylor Swift isn’t fake because we’ve known her since she was 14, she gave all of herself to us, in her songs, in her interactions with fans, sending her coat to a fan who loved it (During the RED era; Swift would have been 22ish). She’s one of the first Tumblr gen artists who has consistently connected with fans and grown up with them, proving her consistency.’ 

We can relate to the words in Swift’s songs. Her lyrics of sadness, anger, hope, and grace connect with us. She touches the human spirit, not necessarily because we’ve been through the exact same kind of struggles, but because we are all human beings trying to figure out how to cope with hard things in life, own up to our shadows and weaknesses and still engage our journey in life. And in Taylor Swift, we’ve found a companion who knows the struggle of life and invites us to join her.  

In our age of loneliness and disintegrating relational bonds, I believe the message of Taylor Swift transcends her concerts and songs. She carries a message for us, a reminder of what we need as human beings. Truth, integrity, authenticity. We don’t necessarily expect people to be perfect, but we need an honesty in our relationships about who people really are, whether that is the good or the bad. Just please, whatever you do, don’t be a hypocrite. 

Wounds from hypocrisy can be hard to recover from. As a person of faith, I have experienced first-hand and have heard myriad stories of hypocrisy in the church. There is indeed much to be disheartened by in our world, and far-too-often within church walls. But in my more sober-minded moments when I am looking for lasting and healing solutions, I encounter a balm for my pain when I focus on the core and centre of the Christian faith.  

At its heart, Christianity goes beyond offering merely propositional prescriptions for the pain that paralyses us. Instead, hope is offered supremely in and through the person of Jesus Christ, God-in-flesh. Within Christ is a truth that rolls throughout the whole of sacred Scripture. It is the beautiful message that there is a God who can be trusted. We can trust him because he is real, he lived in our world of pain and hypocrisy, and he conquered its power. We might carry scars for the rest of our lives, but Christ’s life tells us that there will come a point, before we die or after, when he will heal the deepest of our wounds. He can be trusted, not because he makes everything in life work out the way we want it to, or because we will never experience pain, but because in Christ, we’ve found the one who knows the way through it.  

There’s also a challenge here for those who follow Christ and it is simply to reflect his character of truth, love, and beauty in how we live thereby opening up a world into which people actually want to inhabit.  

Recovering from being hurt by hypocrisy can be a long and hard road to travel. A recent conversation with a friend reminded me of how difficult that is while my experience of Seattle bubbling with Taylor Swift happiness provided a signpost of hope. And behind all of this I am made to wonder, more than I can ever recall, whether faith in Jesus Christ can help steer us in the right direction, if we are willing to engage who he was and the life into which he invites us.  

 

Review
Culture
Death & life
Digital
Film & TV
6 min read

Mickey 17: If we replicate then where does our humanity lie?

Bong Joon-ho has a stark warning about dehumanization.

Krish is a social entrepreneur partnering across civil society, faith communities, government and philanthropy. He founded The Sanctuary Foundation.

Two cloned humans stand side by side.
Warner Bros.

One of my favourite films of the last decade was Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite, a groundbreaking masterpiece in social commentary, humour and suspense. It won four Academy Awards in 2020, including Best Film - which was a first for a non-English language film - as well as numerous other accolades. So, when the director’s latest project, Mickey 17, was announced, I was eager to see if Bong could deliver another cinematic triumph of similar beauty, depth and precision.  

Mickey 17 took me by surprise. To be honest, the change in genre took some adjusting to, but as I recalibrated my expectations, I realised that the film nevertheless retained Bong’s trademark thought-provoking and daring exploration of identity, purpose and the human condition.  

Mickey 17 is in fact the eighth major film from Bong Joon Ho, but he is probably best known for Snowpiercer and Parasite. These films share common themes, particularly the stark divide between rich and poor and the rigid, two-tier nature of human society. In Parasite, we see the poor trapped in the flood plains of Seoul while the elite live in grand houses on hills. The film is structured around the visual metaphor of descent and ascent. In Snowpiercer, the class struggle is represented by the different carriages of the train, with the poor at the back of the train suffering in squalor while the privileged at the front enjoy luxury. 

Us and them 

In Mickey 17, this theme of societal hierarchy continues but in a futuristic, intergalactic setting. The divide now exists between the expendables—a class of human clones used for dangerous tasks—and the higher echelons of the spaceship crew, who are embarking on a mission to colonize a new planet.  

Mickey’s journey to the spaceship begins in poverty. He and a supposed friend start a business, funding it through a loan shark. When the business fails, the loan shark threatens their lives. Desperate, Mickey signs up for the space expedition, barely reading the fine print—only to discover that he has agreed to be an expendable. 

All expendables are humans who have been digitized – their entire bodies, brains, and psychologies are stored as data. When they die, they are simply reprinted, with only a week’s worth of memory lost. They exist to perform dangerous tasks such as testing the effects of radiation exposure, new vaccines, or extreme planetary conditions. In Mickey’s case, he has been fatally experimented on 16 times. He has been resurrected to his seventeenth version, and while he is still called Mickey, the question is whether this Mickey is the same Mickey who signed up for the space mission in the first place.  

What does it mean to be human? 

One of the film’s central philosophical questions is: What makes someone human? Mickey is biologically and mentally identical to himself, yet each iteration has a different personality. Some versions of him are more caring, others more aggressive or anxious. If he is just a replica, then where does his humanity lie? Is he just a product of his genetic code, or is there something more—something intangible—that makes him who he is? 

It is the same question that has been asked since the beginning of time. The Bible claims that the first human beings were created in the image of God, but what does that mean? Did that first iteration of humankind have the same power, the same worth, the same purpose as God? This was the forbidden fruit dilemma – Adam and Eve were already like God, but the serpent tempts them to eat the fruit so they could be like God in a different way.  

In our technologically advanced world, we are faced with the same fundamental difficulty in defining personhood: are we physical and spiritual beings with intrinsic dignity, infinite worth and unique purpose, or are we just biological replications existing for pre-programmed functions. If human cloning were to become common practice, would each clone be truly human?  

What is a human life worth? 

As far as the ship’s crew is concerned, Mickey is expendable. His pain, suffering, and even his existence are secondary to the mission. While the crew pursue the possibility of extending their own influence and power by colonising another planet, the expendables have no influence or power at all. The portrayal of this devaluing of human life is the most challenging of themes in Bong’s most popular films. In Parasite, the poor are only useful to the rich until they become an inconvenience. In Snowpiercer, the people at the back of the train serve those at the front, but they are seen as disposable. In Mickey 17, this exploitation is taken to its extreme—Mickey’s entire purpose is to die over and over again for the good of others. 

In a world that often assigns value based on productivity, Mickey 17 provides a stark warning about dehumanization. If we begin to measure worth based on what someone can do rather than who they are, we risk treating people as commodities. The Adam and Eve story turns that on its head. They were declared ‘good’ before they were given their roles to take care of one another and creation. Their function was an overflow of their dignity, not the other way around. And even after the forbidden fruit incident where the world was infected with sin and death there is a thread that reminds us that each life is precious. The Psalms declares that each of us is “fearfully and wonderfully made”. Jesus spent his life upholding the dignity of those society deemed inconvenient and expendable – the poor, sick and marginalised.  

What does death achieve? 

Despite dying multiple times, Mickey still fears death. Even though he knows he will be reprinted, the experience remains terrifying. No amount of technology, it seems, can remove the instinctive human fear of mortality. In fact the question that everybody that has contact with Mickey wants to ask is what death feels like, because everyone, whether a friend or simply a user of Mickey has to confront their own mortality. 
In the final act, Mickey makes a choice. Instead of living in an endless cycle of death and resurrection, he chooses to grow old with one person. He destroys the only means by which he could achieve immortality. The film is suggesting that relationship is more important that reusability. Finiteness—the ability to die permanently—is part of what makes life meaningful. 

The Bible teaches that there is an Adam 2.0. While the first Adam brought sin and death into the world, the second Adam – Jesus – brought redemption and eternal life. Both Jesus and Mickey choose death to break the cycle of suffering. But while Mickey chooses to abandon his contract as an expendable, Jesus willingly became expendable for the sake of others. His death was a once-for-all sacrifice that broke the power of death for all.  

What about resurrection? 

If there is life beyond this life what does it look like? Is it merely reprinting? A chance to try again? Or is there, as Adam 2.0 leads us to believe, a resurrection into a whole new world that even science fiction cannot begin to imagine? 

At its heart, Mickey 17 asks profound existential and ethical questions. It forces us to confront what it means to be human, what that human life is worth and how we deal with our mortality. It doesn’t provide us with answers but it invites us to wrestle with these crucial ideas. And in doing so, it points us back to the only hope that is worth having: a view of life where value is not earned, our existence is not expendable, and death is not the end. 

Celebrate our 2nd birthday!

Since March 2023, our readers have enjoyed over 1,000 articles. All for free. This is made possible through the generosity of our amazing community of supporters.

If you’re enjoying Seen & Unseen, would you consider making a gift towards our work?

Do so by joining Behind The Seen. Alongside other benefits, you’ll receive an extra fortnightly email from me sharing my reading and reflections on the ideas that are shaping our times.

Graham Tomlin

Editor-in-Chief