I think it's child abuse to have someone in the public eye too

Hear the voice of Alanis Morissette, a singer whose own life was touched by the weight of fame, as she declared: “I think it’s child abuse to have someone in the public eye too young. Society basically values wealth and fame and power at the cost of well-being. In the case of a child, it’s at the cost of someone’s natural development. It’s already hard enough to develop.” These words are not spoken lightly, but with the sorrow of one who has seen innocence burdened by the demands of spectacle. They are a warning to us all: that to sacrifice childhood on the altar of celebrity is to wound the soul of the future.

The meaning is sharp and clear. Childhood is the season of becoming, when the self is tender and still forming, when a young spirit needs time to stumble, to wonder, to grow in quiet. To thrust a child into the glare of the public eye is to rob them of this natural rhythm, to replace their own questions with the judgments of strangers, to bind their sense of worth not to their being but to applause. Morissette calls this by its rightful name—abuse—for it twists the natural course of growth into something unnatural and often cruel.

History gives us many examples. Recall the tragic tale of Judy Garland, who, as a girl, was thrust into Hollywood’s spotlight. She was celebrated by millions, yet behind the curtain, she was pressured, controlled, and deprived of a normal youth. The world adored her voice, but few cared for her well-being. Her later struggles with addiction and despair were not the failings of her character, but the scars of a society that prized fame over her humanity. Her story is but one among many—proof that the cost of early celebrity is often unbearable.

Morissette’s words strike at the heart of a greater indictment: that society too often worships wealth, fame, and power above all else. These things are pursued as though they were the measure of life itself, while the treasures of peace, health, and wholeness are neglected. When such false idols are placed before the well-being of children, the result is ruin. For children are not ornaments to entertain, nor vessels to enrich, but souls entrusted to us, whose development demands care, patience, and protection.

The wisdom here is ancient. The philosophers of old warned that one must not place burdens too heavy upon the young, for the sapling that is bent too harshly may break instead of growing strong. In the same way, to force upon a child the weight of public expectation is to risk crushing what is still fragile. Even in societies long gone, the protection of children was seen as sacred duty, for they are not only themselves—they are the future of the people.

The lesson for us is urgent and clear: we must guard the childhood of every soul. We must resist the temptation to thrust the young into the glare of spectacle, even if it promises riches or renown. Let us instead value the slow work of development, the dignity of privacy, the time to play, to dream, to fail without the world watching. For only then will children grow into adults who are whole, secure, and capable of living not for applause, but for truth.

Therefore, take this teaching into practice. If you are a parent, shield your children from the harsh gaze of the crowd. If you are a teacher, honor their growth over their performance. If you are a citizen, resist a culture that feeds on the young for entertainment. Speak against the hunger for spectacle, and nurture instead the unseen but priceless treasure of a child’s well-being. In this way, we do not only protect children—we protect the very heart of humanity.

So remember Morissette’s warning: wealth, fame, and power gained at the expense of a child’s development are hollow victories. To honor childhood is to honor life itself. Guard it, protect it, and let it unfold at its natural pace, for from such care emerges not broken spirits but strong souls, capable of carrying the destiny of tomorrow.