It’s interesting, isn’t it? People who would never think of ridiculing the sick or mentally ill, who would never dream of condemning emotionally crippled individuals broken by dysfunctional families, will gleefully heap public abuse on a celebrity with the same problems. Why is this? A human being in trouble is a human being in trouble. It seems, however, that with the exception of little girls who fall down wells, the more people who know you are in crisis, the less sympathy you are likely to get.

Take, for example, the sad case of actress Lindsay Lohan, a talented young woman cursed with two narcissistic and exploitive parents. She was put through the grinder of child stardom, emerged without emotional grounding, education or survival skills, and appears to be well on her way to an early grave. She is only 23 years old, but already her once bright career has been swallowed by too much tabloid fodder and substance abuse. Her beauty is quickly being eroded by her obsessive nightlife; and her dignity has been lost to a voracious media eager to promote her as the latest celebrity train wreck. Anyone can see that the young woman is lost, desperately searching for an anchor, a purpose, a linear constant to lead her out of chaos.

Lohan recently went to India to participate in a BBC documentary about child trafficking. Shortly after arriving, Lohan enthused via Twitter, “Over 40 children saved so far… Within one day’s work… This is what life is about… Doing THIS is a life worth living!!!”
Immediately, bloggers pounced, ridiculing Lohan for “taking credit” for saving children who had been freed in raids before she landed in the country. Of course, that isn’t what the tweet actually said; the claim that she had personally saved forty enslaved children would be self-evidently absurd. Never mind: the main thing was that the tweet provided an opportunity to attack Lindsay, no matter how unfairly. Amazingly, the Indian organization that organized the raids felt it was necessary to criticize Lohan’s 140 character comment as well, which sparked another round of vicious blog posts.

A desperate young woman attempted to extract some shred of self-esteem from a film experience widely viewed as evidence that her options have dwindled to the vanishing point. She did not put out a press release or make extravagant claims in interviews. She simply used an internet social medium to express feelings of satisfaction from participating in something more substantive than a night of clubbing. Unable to get movie roles, mocked for her attempt at fashion design, dropped by her recording label, pursuing a toxic romantic relationship that has unfolded like a bad soap opera and, incredibly, still being used as source of income and notoriety by her feckless father, Lindsey Lohan just tried to say she felt good about something in her life, and she wasn’t even allowed to do that.

What Lohan needs, at least as a start, is a public showing of kindness from someone whose star hasn’t fallen so fast or far. When Britney Spears appeared on the verge of tragedy in 2007, CBS late night comic Craig Fergusen broke from the mob of comedians and bloggers who were ridiculing her by beginning one night’s show with an apology for making jokes at the expense of Hollywood celebrities in the throes of substance abuse problems. As a recovering alcoholic who had been sober for fifteen years (and who once came perilously close to suicide), Fergusen said that had  been where Spears seemed to be, and remembered what it was like. These are real people who are suffering, he said. “We should be making fun of the powerful people, not people who are vulnerable and need help.”

With that moving speech, Ferguson showed that he has solid ethical instincts and that the professional pressures of getting laughs at almost any cost would not cause him to abandon them. He saw that Spears was, like Lohan, a young woman in trouble, and didn’t devise rationalizations to justify being cruel to her because she was rich, famous, and irresponsible. He applied the Golden Rule, and was able to empathize with her crisis.

I was in the middle of writing this post when I recalled that I had written a similar one two years ago, on The Ethics Scoreboard. At that time, Lohan had been arrested for reckless driving and drug possession. She had prestigious film projects in the works then; she also still looked like the fresh-faced teen star of “Mean Girls,” in contrast to her bleary-eyed, haggard appearance now. Her legal problems and wild lifestyle were the cause of much hilarity at the time, but it is remarkable to reflect on how much better Lohan’s future appeared even in the midst of her difficulties than it does today.

The public, the media and the entertainment industry appear content to watch this young woman destroy herself. When Drew Barrymore, another child actress whose passage to adulthood was hampered by terrible parents and addiction, veered out of control, rock musician David Crosby took her into his home and provided the guidance and support that changed and possibly saved her life. Surely there is a David Crosby somewhere in Hollywood for Lindsay Lohan, who is older than Barrymore was but only chronologically. She is very much a child.

Celebrities trade their privacy for many privileges and benefits, but they do not forfeit their humanity, and their fame and wealth does not relieve us of the ethical duties of empathy and caring. A young woman who happens to be a celebrity is standing on a ledge, and everyone is pointing, laughing, taking photos and daring her to jump.

Is there no one who will do the right thing, and save Lindsay Lohan?