Living in the Cult of Likability

On a recent episode of the television series “South Park,” the character Cartman and other townspeople who are enthralled with Yelp, the app that lets customers rate and review restaurants, remind maître d’s and waiters that they will be posting reviews of their meals. These “Yelpers” threaten to give the eateries only one star out of five if they don’t please them and do exactly as they say. The restaurants feel that they have no choice but to comply with the Yelpers, who take advantage of their power by asking for free dishes and making suggestions on improving the lighting. The restaurant employees tolerate all this with increasing frustration and anger — at one point Yelp reviewers are even compared to the Islamic State group — before both parties finally arrive at a truce. Yet unknown to the Yelpers, the restaurants decide to get their revenge by contaminating the Yelpers’ plates with every bodily fluid imaginable.

The point of the episode is that today everyone thinks that they’re a professional critic (“Everyone relies on my Yelp reviews!”), even if they have no idea what they’re talking about. But it’s also a bleak commentary on what has become known as the “reputation economy.” In depicting the restaurants’ getting their revenge on the Yelpers, the episode touches on the fact that services today are also rating us, which raises a question: How will we deal with the way we present ourselves online and in social media, and how do individuals brand themselves in what is a widening corporate culture?

The idea that everybody thinks they’re specialists with voices that deserve to be heard has actually made everyone’s voice less meaningful. All we’re doing is setting ourselves up to be sold to — to be branded, targeted and data-mined. But this is the logical endgame of the democratization of culture and the dreaded cult of inclusivity, which insists that all of us must exist under the same umbrella of corporate regulation — a mandate that dictates how we should express ourselves and behave.

Most people of a certain age probably noticed this when they joined their first corporation, Facebook, which has its own rules regarding expressions of opinion and sexuality. Facebook encouraged users to “like” things, and because it was a platform where many people branded themselves on the social Web for the first time, the impulse was to follow the Facebook dictum and present an idealized portrait of their lives — a nicer, friendlier, duller self. And it was this burgeoning of the likability cult and the dreaded notion of “relatability” that ultimately reduced everyone to a kind of neutered clockwork orange, enslaved to the corporate status quo. To be accepted we have to follow an upbeat morality code where everything must be liked and everybody’s voice respected, and any person who has a negative opinion — a dislike — will be shut out of the conversation. Anyone who resists such groupthink is ruthlessly shamed. Absurd doses of invective are hurled at the supposed troll to the point that the original “offense” often seems negligible by comparison.

I’ve been rated and reviewed since I became a published author at the age of 21, so this environment only seems natural to me. A reputation emerged based on how many reviewers liked or didn’t like my book. That’s the way it goes — cool, I guess. I was liked as often as I was disliked, and that was OK because I didn’t get emotionally involved. Being reviewed negatively never changed the way I wrote or the topics I wanted to explore, no matter how offended some readers were by my descriptions of violence and sexuality. As a member of Generation X, rejecting, or more likely ignoring, the status quo came easily to me. One of my generation’s loudest anthems was Joan Jett’s “Bad Reputation,” whose chorus rang out: “I don’t give a damn about my reputation/ I’ve never been afraid of any deviation.” I was a target of corporate-think myself when the company that owned my publishing house decided it didn’t like the contents of a particular novel I had been contracted to write and refused to publish it on the grounds of “taste.” (I could have sued but another publisher who liked the book published it instead.) It was a scary moment for the arts — a conglomerate was deciding what should and should not be published and there were loud arguments and protests on both sides of the divide. But this was what the culture was about: People could have differing opinions and discuss them rationally. You could disagree and this was considered not only the norm but interesting as well. It was a debate. This was a time when you could be opinionated — and, yes, a questioning, reasonable critic — and not be considered a troll.

Now all of us are used to rating movies, restaurants, books, even doctors, and we give out mostly positive reviews because, really, who wants to look like a hater? But increasingly, services are also rating us. Companies in the sharing economy, like Uber and Airbnb, rate their customers and shun those who don’t make the grade. Opinions and criticisms flow in both directions, causing many people to worry about how they’re measuring up. Will the reputation economy put an end to the culture of shaming or will the bland corporate culture of protecting yourself by “liking” everything — of being falsely polite just to be accepted by the herd — grow stronger than ever? Giving more positive reviews to get one back? Instead of embracing the true contradictory nature of human beings, with all of their biases and imperfections, we continue to transform ourselves into virtuous robots. This in turn has led to the awful idea — and booming business — of reputation management, where a firm is hired to help shape a more likable, relatable You. Reputation management is about gaming the system. It’s a form of deception, an attempt to erase subjectivity and evaluation through intuition, for a price.

Ultimately, the reputation economy is about making money. It urges us to conform to the blandness of corporate culture and makes us react defensively by varnishing our imperfect self so we can sell and be sold things. Who wants to share a ride or a house or a doctor with someone who doesn’t have a good online reputation? The reputation economy depends on everyone maintaining a reverentially conservative, imminently practical attitude: Keep your mouth shut and your skirt long, be modest and don’t have an opinion. The reputation economy is yet another example of the blanding of culture, and yet the enforcing of groupthink has only increased anxiety and paranoia, because the people who embrace the reputation economy are, of course, the most scared. What happens if they lose what has become their most valuable asset? The embrace of the reputation economy is an ominous reminder of how economically desperate people are and that the only tools they have to raise themselves up the economic ladder are their sparklingly upbeat reputations — which only adds to their ceaseless worry over their need to be liked.

Empowerment doesn’t come from liking this or that thing, but from being true to our messy contradictory selves. There are limits to showcasing our most flattering assets because no matter how genuine and authentic we think we are, we’re still just manufacturing a construct, no matter how accurate it may be. What is being erased in the reputation economy are the contradictions inherent in all of us. Those of us who reveal flaws and inconsistencies become terrifying to others, the ones to avoid. An “Invasion of the Body Snatchers”-like world of conformity and censorship emerges, erasing the opinionated and the contrarian, corralling people into an ideal. Forget the negative or the difficult. Who wants solely that? But what if the negative and the difficult were attached to the genuinely interesting, the compelling, the unusual? That’s the real crime being perpetrated by the reputation culture: stamping out passion; stamping out the individual.


  • Warren Tracy

    Mr. Ellis,
    I enjoyed your blog post about your interview with Tarantino.
    After reading this post, on Yelpers, I agree with the notion that reputation management has become a necessity in this digital age. I agree that the individual has been empowered by all the digital mediums. I have read online comments or reviews for a lot of different sites and the posts by some are very personal, even bordering on libel. You can tell when someone is writing just to prove what a jerk they can be. It seems to me that the corporate culture is what they have always been, but the individual, via social media, is not unique anymore. Truly annoying and for that I give most of my Facebook friends only 1 star!

  • Would love to hear you have a conversation with Billy Corgan on your podcast. I imagine it would be an epic deconstruction of modern times.

  • Dear BEE,

    This post is fantastic and contains shiny nuggets of truth that we desperately need in America today. I do have to point out that some people—believe it or not—are optimists and generally positive and do genuinely “like” many things they come across on social media. That doesn’t invalidate your greater point about the corporate “stamping out” of the individual , though—an assessment with which I wholeheartedly agree.

    By the way, what happened to your awesome podcast? I miss your sometimes ludicrous but always entertaining pre-interview rants and your no-holds-or-questions-barred discussions with celebrities I actually want to hear from/about!

  • So happy to see you talking about the new season of South Park on here! As a fan of your podcast, I couldn’t help but find so many similarities between your critiques of PC culture and those being made by Trey Parker in SP this last season. If you haven’t watched the final episodes of that season, I really hope that you do, especially the first episode, ‘stunning and brave,’ and the final episodes. Even better, you should have Trey Parker on your podcast next season!

  • Hi BEE,

    I enjoyed the hell out of this post. This season of South Park seems to speak an oddly prophetic message about where the standards and mores in this country, and moreover the world, are headed. Bill Hicks never could’ve survived in this world, nor could Oscar Wilde, nor any of the other contrarians whose voices were so important and bright in their time and place. I fear the world you describe in this post, and I see society careening depressingly toward it faster and faster every day.


  • Great piece Bret!
    Where’s the “like” button? 😉
    Honestly how did we get to this? A world full of narcissists desperate for likes, approval and affirmation.
    Social media is partly to blame and in combination with hordes of ignorant, insecure and outright stupid people
    it has become worryingly toxic. A snowball effect impossible to stop? How do you convince young people that
    it is not a good idea posing semi nude on their Instagram when they see all the Mileys, Rihanna’s and even goodie good
    Bev doing it? You hit the spot with Eli Roth when discussing the harm to self image caused by media and fashion
    industry as opposed to the outcry following violent movies. So true! But no one dares to say it.
    Mainstream media has become dull, cooperate and “safe”.
    I have only recently discovered your podcast and have binged on it lately. So much good stuff and uncomfortable truths
    discussed. An oasis amongst all the shit out there. Thank you!
    Where can I find old episodes? My RSS app only has recent ones.

    “The problem with the world is that the intelligent people are full of doubts, while the stupid ones are full of confidence.”
    ― Charles Bukowski

  • Mr. Ellis.

    I don’t use Facebook; I use Twitter only as a conduit through which obscure applications I’ve created communicate with each other through cryptic little messages.

    So- The comment section attached to an old blog entry is the only outlet I could find after being too lazy to search for a better venue.

    If you never see this, that’s okay… it makes me feel good to write it.

    I’m not really a huge fan of some of your work and I disagree with a lot of your reviews. That having been said…. after reading your monologue on political correctness, I had to put this into words:

    You are my damned hero.

    I could imagine that you couldn’t care less to be some stranger’s hero, and that’s okay too. I just had to say it, that’s all.

    Just one more time: You Are my Damned Hero.

    Better now. Thanks.

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