Fair Game: The Sport of Being Hunted
There was a time when “fair game” meant exactly that–something you could shoot legally without a game warden lecturing you about ethics. Deer, pheasants, and the occasional trespassing peasant all qualified. The phrase trotted into English in the 17th century, describing creatures not protected by law or decency. By the 19th century, the expression had evolved into metaphor: people became fair game not for shooting with muskets but for blasting with mockery, gossip, and public flaying by the literate class.
Today everything with a pulse and a Wi-Fi connection is fair game. Celebrities, naturally, remain the gold standard. They post a photo, and we roast them like chestnuts at Christmas. Politicians line up for ritual humiliation the way Romans lined up for the lions–self-righteous, overfed, and visibly surprised when the crowd hisses. Even the guy next door–posting gym selfies, flag rants, or “inspirational” quotes about hustle culture–has volunteered for the digital coliseum. We call it “engagement.” He calls it “being misunderstood.”
The Rules of Fair Game
Simple: if a face, opinion, or failure can be monetized, someone will. Fame once required talent, now it only demands Wi-Fi and poor impulse control. The internet, that grand democratic abattoir, spares no one. You are fair game if your name trends, if your ex leaks your texts, or if you spell definitely with an a.
How do we treat those who are fair game? Like sport. We chase, we wound, and then we claim moral victory for having done so in the name of “accountability.” Civilization’s great irony is that we condemn the hunt while live-streaming the kill. Humanity, it seems, was never more enthusiastic about fairness–or less about mercy–than when the prey happens to be us.
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