What the Bec. When Brooklyn Beckham broke up with his parents over Instagram last month, it sent social media into a frenzy and even sensible publications (of which I have some inside knowledge) felt compelled to report and analyse this (highly irrelevant) item on the news agenda. For anyone who only reads the business pages of the Financial Times and has managed to swerve this story completely, here’s a quick summary.
After months of speculation about a rift between son number one and his mishpocheh, Brooklyn made a rather decisive statement to his 17 million followers on Instagram accusing his parents of valuing their image over their children, calling out their “inauthentic” relationships and “performative social media posts”. In a bizarre little extra flourish, he also outed Victoria for dancing “inappropriately” with him at his own wedding – a detail that launched a thousand memes. The response from the great British public was a mix of sympathy and disdain for Posh and Becks – with many also suggesting that poor Brooklyn may be a little over-privileged and ungrateful. On social media, that point was made in slightly less polite terms.
But at its core, the Beckham family broiges isn’t about the rich over-privileged kid or the image-obsessed parents – or at least not only. It’s really a tale that exposes the power and poison of social media. It used to be that celebrities feared the paparazzi getting a glimpse of their intimate moments. Now they’ve turned on themselves and become their own paparazzi, revealing more intimate moments than any long-lens photographer could ever have dreamed of.
They are infiltrating their own sacred family spaces and exposing themselves inside out. And Brooklyn Beckham, who is among the first wave of children who have grown up under the influence of influencing, feels defiled by it – or by the image obsession that it has encouraged in his family home. But at the same time, he’s also succumbed to its destructive powers and himself created one of the most exposing and explosive celebrity social media posts of all time.
The difference, you might say, between celebrities being papped and celebrities posting is that what they post is their own choice. But they are also victims of social media culture – as we all are to some extent. The only real winners of the world’s obsession with influencing are those at the top, like Zuckerberg and Musk. Being part of the frenzy to gain influence comes at a price. People like the Beckhams become addicted to their following – to the detriment of their own family and often to the detriment of their own mental health.
In an interview in the Sunday Times last weekend, Harry Styles admitted that he’s changed his social media habits to help on his own journey to mental wellbeing. “I’ve made small changes, like not having Instagram on my phone any more. I feel so much healthier in my relationship with this world that I’m stepping back into,” he said.
Constantly chasing that dopamine hit of ‘likes’ is quite obviously not a route to inner or family happiness
Now there’s been speculation that the UK government might follow Australia’s example and ban under-16s from social media as Sir Keir Starmer promised to “crack down on the addictive elements”. It would certainly help our children develop and grow into healthier adults.
But the challenge doesn’t end when kids hit 16. What about those healthy adults equally gripped by social media – many of whom are becoming ever more anxious?
And what about those people who seem so successful, like the Beckhams, but are being influenced to influence at the expense of the most precious and treasured thing in their lives – their own family ties.
Nowadays, if you are a celebrity, it takes a self-assured and deeply content character to opt out of social media – something celebrities rarely are. For anyone high profile, opting out is an act of strength – a conscious decision to resist the temptation of that instant external validation that posting brings. Opting in is the default.
I don’t know if Victoria and David have implemented social media rules like Harry Styles – but according to their own son intimate moments have become opportunities for external approval. Constantly chasing that dopamine hit of “likes” is quite obviously not a route to inner or family happiness. As Whitney Houston taught our generation of mums: “Learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all.” She might add a social media warning to that lyric. Because even the Beckhams, the savviest of them all, are not immune to its powers. The pull of knowing that millions are waiting to comment on their family snap ends up working its way backwards. In wanting to influence others by sharing intimate moments, the approval of those anonymous others has influenced their own intimate family moments.
So what does all this have to do with you and me? Well I think we have the antidote on a plate for us – a day we’re meant to switch off. Obviously you don’t need the excuse of Shabbat to bring in family phone rules – and many manage brilliantly to create phone-free spaces without Judaism or Shabbat. But sometimes it’s easier when the rules are there – which is why the government’s ban would of course be game-changing. And why it’s worth appreciating the Jewish rules that we have. The thing with our religion (look away now if you’re reading, Rabbi Birnbaum) is that most of us treat it like a bag of pick ‘n’ mix. Keep kosher in. Keep kosher-ish out. Keep Shabbat in this way. Not exactly in that way. Go to shul for this. But not for that. No two wiggly Jewish lines are the same. So switching phones off over Shabbat – or just on a Friday night – can be part of anyone’s Jewish repertoire, however much they keep or don’t keep Shabbat in other ways.
For me, that switch-off is a lifeline, a golden moment to reset and recharge. And I can’t help feeling that if the Beckhams had kept one day of the week to completely forget about the outside world, to disconnect from social media and connect with each other instead, this family broiges may have been averted. Perhaps Brooklyn Beckham would never have felt like chopped liver – if he’d just been eating it instead.
Naomi Greenaway is deputy editor of Magazine and Long Reads at the Telegraph
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