One need not be a sadist to enjoy the deeply unflattering body cam footage of Tiger Woods’ recent drunk driving arrest. Even before factoring in anyone’s personal feelings about the peerlessly accomplished but past-his-prime athlete, or their feelings about drunk drivers in general, the photos are internet-gold that lend themselves easily to memes and jokes.
Still, there’s an unsavory aftertaste to this schadenfreude fiesta. It’s the same gamey flavor baked into the release last month of body cam footage from Justin Timberlake’s 2024 arrest, also for drunk driving. While there may be a cheap dopamine hit in watching famous people with highly managed public images in a situation where they have no control—especially if it’s a famous person one doesn’t particularly approve of, for whatever reason—this lurid form of entertainment has a steeper price than many observers might realize or admit. What the viral phenomenon costs us is the implicit agreement that, on a really bad day, anyone could be next.
It’s surreal to witness a tool of police accountability become a weapon for shaming the people being policed. The tabloidification of arrest footage is not a recent development, though—dash cam video of Reese Witherspoon’s DUI arrest back in 2013, for instance, was such an overcooked spectacle, even a headline from then-reputable CBS News offered the non-commentary that the video “does not disappoint.”
The dynamics at play in body cam footage released for our amusement go back way further—and point toward a future where privacy is a fragile privilege
The original rotten tomatoes
The powerful have been using public humiliation to dissuade would-be law-breakers for hundreds of years. Throughout the 16th and 17th centuries, criminals in England convicted of crimes such as “swearing” and “drunkenness” were made to sit in stocks or stand in pillories in the town square, so their neighbors could jeer at them and throw rotten produce. This result fused the offenders’ punishment with the townspeople’s entertainment. The message was clear: Much better to be the one throwing the tomatoes than the one getting hit.
A few hundred years later, public shaming became part of the process for arresting high-profile criminals. The FBI introduced the perp walk in the 1930s, parading a suspect before a gauntlet of news cameras on the way to the courthouse. This ritual served the dual purpose of showing off the police’s heroic efficiency—what’s now known as ‘copaganda’—while also telegraphing the undignified infamy waiting for criminals when they inevitably got caught.
