Fan Loyalty or Stockholm Syndrome?

The human cost of fan labour.

In 1996, a Barbra Streisand museum opened its doors in San Francisco. It was founded by superfan Ken Joachim. According to the New York Times, he financed the project by mortgaging his house. Joachim told them that part of Streisand’s appeal was “the adversity and prejudice she had faced,” which he could relate to.

This isn’t a classic case of fan labour, as it wasn’t sought out by Streisand’s team, and it wasn’t driving metrics that the industry keeps tabs on. But it was done in the interest of promoting her and supporting her brand, and it was work. Running a museum is not a lark.

Fan labour, as directly instrumentalized by industry, can be said to have roots in the “street team” marketing of the early 1990s. But street teams weren’t necessarily made up of fans, nor were they active in fan spaces. The weaponization of fans’ investment and desire to support their faves followed quickly, though. Electric Artists (EA) and M80 Interactive Marketing (M80) are two companies that sprung up in the late 90s who were early adopters of directing fan efforts to support entertainment brands online.

According to Forbes, they charged 40k a month for marketing support, and none of that money went to the thousands of fans that were being mobilized. In fact, getting fans to do the work for free was essential to the business model. EA’s Marc Schiller said, "We don't want to give them cash, because then they stop being a fan, and they start being an employee."

This is something that has been echoed repeatedly since then. It’s what the customer evangelist model is based on. Free labour is superior to that which is paid because it is internally motivated and fosters an investment and attachment to the brand.

“I feel that [Backstreet Boys] are a part of me, because I’ve done so much for them,” a fan on M80’s team supporting BSB said. The more you do it, the more invested you become. It’s a form of sweat equity since fans feel ownership and experience vicarious highs over the accomplishments and milestones of their fan objects.

EA has been credited with the launch of Christina Aguilera, as they recruited fans to promote her online. They tapped into the rivalry with Britney Spears, using the age-old tactic of competition to motivate fans to work harder.

Discussing *NSync fans, Dave Neupert of M80 said, “We spread that word to fans that we had to beat [Backstreet Boys’ first-week sales] record.” But they also worked with BSB, triangulating the very teams they’d created against one another.

“M80 encouraged its street teams to badger local radio stations with requests for the song, to wear the band’s buttons everywhere, to put BSB links on their Web pages, to converse about BSB in chat rooms, and to lure other fans to join in their virtual promotional wilding.”

Alissa Quart, Branded: The Buying and Selling of Teenagers

Part of the gig involved providing insider information to the teams in order to properly synchronize activity when needed in the promotional rollout. Sending radio requests when the song hasn’t been serviced is a waste of time, but inundating stations when there’s a heavy-up on the horizon supports official efforts.

In some cases, fans were even sent high-definition photographs to drum up excitement for upcoming magazine issues. Feeding information and content directly to fan sites and accounts is something that persists to this day, evidenced by the amount of high-definition, copyrighted images that populate fan sites and update accounts, as well as convenient photo leaks.

Presently, it’s Update Accounts that are seen as responsible for informing and mobilizing fans, and running them is no joke. Billboard Pro wrote about how these accounts are changing the shape of music marketing in 2018. They confirmed with a representative that a Beyoncé update account had “very close ties to the music industry.” They also covered just how much effort goes into running these accounts. One Brazilian BTS fan behind a Twitter update account said, “I dedicate myself almost 24 hours a day, and it’s like my job.”

One of fifteen people behind a Louis Tomlinson update account said that members are required to spend 5 hours a day on the account and that, “it is not unusual for team members to work for more than 24 hours straight or to take leave from their paying jobs to cover activities” when Tomlinson is touring.

Unfortunately, today’s industry seems to believe that working with fan accounts is sufficient to support their artists, even though they aren’t doing any of the work. An executive at RCA told Billboard, “In most cases, [fans] do a better job of promoting than those on the inside. I’ve found that including these types of accounts on new releases and premieres often obtains more reach than the artist posting about it themselves.”

But this isn’t true, and something that seems tied to the focus on engagement metrics. Fans can drum up a large amount of engagement because they are preaching to the converted and actively talking amongst themselves.

But fans do not have reach or distribution networks that they can tap into to expand audiences, which is incredibly important, especially when the current approach leads to burn-out from the high demands.

EA’s Marc Schiller discovered the limitations of using fans only when his team was tasked with promoting the film On The Line in 2001. According to him, “The word of mouth that we saw coming back to my team was off the radar. We’d never seen anything like this—the passion was there.”

But the film didn’t succeed, and it was a huge blow to Schiller and EA. After regrouping, they realized that the problem was dispersion and reach. Fans simply couldn’t reach outside their circle, no matter how excited they were for something. The volume of discussion and the fervency of the hype could not translate to the uninitiated, who are exactly who you need to create a hit. That’s why they were successful when mobilizing fans to support existing promotional efforts rather than letting them do all the work on their own. Fans have no distribution channels, no networks to tap into, and no structural access.

Universal Pictures also experienced this firsthand a few years later with the film Serenity. Since it was a continuation of a cult TV show with a dedicated audience, the fans were heavily relied on to provide promotional support. They took their job seriously, but even they had questions: there was a banner competition where fans believed the final product would be used to advertise the film online, where the uninitiated might encounter it and have their interest piqued. But instead, fans were tasked with putting the banners on their own fan sites, which were only visited by existing fans. Preaching to the converted, yet again.

It doesn’t help that fan efforts that are supported and mobilized from official sources are often presented as being entirely grassroots and fan-driven. One such event is the One Direction fan sign project at their 2014 performance at the San Siro stadium in Italy.

It was an impressive feat, but it was not accomplished by fans alone. In fact, it was part of a “fan activation” driven by the Italian fan portal TeamWorld, which has been actively supporting labels in mobilizing fans for years, including projects for Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, and Robbie Williams.

Looking at the scale and execution of the project, it makes sense that this wouldn’t have been entirely fan-initiated. Fans frequently organized fan projects during concerts, but that didn’t involve the degree of coordination and work that went into this project. And it was conveniently captured in their concert film, ultimately channelling natural fan drives into commercial content that they were not compensated for.

This type of fan labour was always very present with 1D, and it continued into their solo careers. But again, these efforts only ever really succeeded when they also received official support. I covered how these efforts fall short when not supplanted by industry in my Myth of Fan Power piece. It focused in great part on the elaborate efforts of Tomlinson fans that met with structural hurdles that could only have been solved by official sources. Fans doing all the work will always fall short.

Because this piece is focusing on the psychological drivers and impact of this type of fan labour, it’s worth revisiting his specific case, as it is a prime example of the way relying on fan labour is not only unsustainable but causes long-term damage to the fan communities at large and leads to diminishing returns as well as embittered fans who end up stepping away. I was active during this time and part of the fan labour ecosystem. It’s why I have such granular knowledge of what went on.

In the beginning, it was completely understandable that Tomlinson fans felt they needed to provide support to his professional efforts. His first release came days after his mother’s sudden passing, meaning that he may not be able to fulfill the expected promotional duties one might expect. Fans decided to show support by taking on that responsibility. Later on, when he was officially signed with Sony, the lack of support was so blatant it felt necessary for fans to rally and prove to whoever was in charge that if they were to actually put gas behind him, there would be people willing to do the footwork.

But instead, his singles weren’t serviced to radio, his promotional tour was halted, promised releases were delayed, and a tour he teased never materialized. At the time, Tomlinson said in an interview that the fans were “loads better” than his team and could easily do the work instead. Naturally, this was validating and was taken as an indication that he was dissatisfied with the lack of support he was getting and the blatant errors his team would make, such as: providing incorrect links, tagging the wrong accounts, not updating socials, incorrectly pricing releases for chart eligibility, passing on wrong information to fans, and canceling pre-orders. His collaborators would frequently like fans’ tweets discussing the lack of support he was receiving, once again emboldening fans to willingly take on that responsibility.

His return to music happened with a song dedicated to his mother and centred around coping with the grief of losing her. Unfortunately, days after the song was released, his 18-year-old sister died, once again putting a halt to his promotional rollout. Again, it’s understandable that fans would feel the need to provide as much support as they could.

Since he was still under Sony, many fans saw their efforts as a necessary stop-gap measure until official support kicked in. This isn't naivety, as marketing and promotional efforts are often tied to sales, so it’s not strange that fans believed that putting in work would ultimately be rewarded with backing. This is something I’ve seen expressed by many other fandoms who have found themselves disillusioned: they wanted to provide temporary support when needed, to show that they could rally, but eventually discovered that official backing would never materialize because exploiting them was cheaper and easier.

So when did the fan support for Tomlinson shift from a sincere response to structural exploitation? It’s hard to pinpoint, but I think his move to a new management team and independent label marked the start of a new era. Fans breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that there would finally be effort put in that they could back, sure, but not that they would have to carry the burden themselves.

Fan-funded billboard in Mexico.

But nothing really changed. Worse yet, he remained with the same publicist who worked with One Direction and kept Tomlinson and Niall Horan on his roster. This has allowed fans to compare the work he does for the two of them, and the discrepancies are stark. His publicity work frequently relies on negative coverage and press, leaving fans to operate crisis management and attempt to counteract the negative messaging that is perpetuated. Negative publicity and coverage do motivate fans to work harder, but it’s not a strategy that works long-term, nor does it deliver results comparable to actual effort put in by HQs.

Jones has long had an antagonistic relationship with fans, on occasion mocking them for caring “too much.” It’s certainly one thing to believe that fans care too much about adequate coverage, but when a public relations professional who is getting paid to do that exact work mocks its importance, he is arguing against his own role. The cyclical nature of this has exhausted those that work hardest, because if he’s still around nearly a decade on, what indication is there that things would ever improve?

Something else that stands out is Jones’ close relationship with disgraced tabloid reporter Dan Wootton.¹ Jones’ relationship with Wootton is not merely professional, as their long-standing friendship has been closely documented over many years on social media. Wootton would frequently receive exclusives during the band days while also regularly engaging in negative and sensationalized coverage. This access continued into the solo era, with him announcing one of Tomlinson’s singles before he had the chance to do so himself, and at one point even publishing embargoed photographs.When the photographer complained about this on Twitter, Wootton stated that these photos came directly from Jones, emphasizing the access and relationship between them. Wootton even received a British Journalism Award for “revelatory journalism in the public interest” and thanked Tomlinson—incorrectly tagging his account.

A well-documented, long-standing friendship.

Through it all, Tomlinson has repeatedly expressed gratitude for his fans’ efforts. He’s gone so far as to proclaim that they are co-dependent and that they need each other and consistently praises their loyalty. But this presumes that the fans putting in footwork are the same fans that were around 15 years ago, instead of a churn of fans that go through cycles of investment and heavy labour only to be wrung dry and leave when they realize nothing will change. You can see this in the trail of deactivated update accounts and users that crash out. Gratitude doesn’t alleviate the pressure that fans place on themselves, and it doesn’t supplant it.

Fans can’t even delude themselves into thinking they had an impact when milestones come and go without fanfare. A competent team would know to, at the very least, put fire under efforts that have taken off. But instead, they simply encourage streaming parties and send update accounts direct messages with “fan packs,” essentially tasking them to execute promotions on their behalf.

We end up with "sweat equity" that never delivers, and diminishing returns are inevitable.

Justin Bieber faced criticism when his official Instagram account reposted fan-made graphics informing fans on how to game the charts. January 9, 2020.

HYBE has become an expert at instrumentalizing fan labour beyond promotional efforts. The most egregious example is their deputizing fans to report online trolls to them so that they can take legal action against them. Billboard reported on HYBE’s legal actions in 2019, quoting their statement, “We have responded with zero tolerance against insults and defamation against our artists, and our stance will remain unchanged as long as these acts occur. We emphasize that there is, and will be, no leniency or settlement with the perpetrators of these acts.”

But even though HYBE has asked fans to report accounts to them, they don’t always take legal action, and fans have come to expect it. Their claims of “no leniency” are taken seriously, and failure to follow through is unacceptable. In one case, it has resulted in a fan group attempting legal action against HYBE, stating that “fans have the right to claim compensation for the mental and material pain and sufferings incurred to the artist and fans caused by the agency’s failure to perform its duties.”

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But it’s not just mainstream and corporately supported artists that engage in exploitation of fan labour. The controversy around Amanda Palmer’s 2012 Kickstarter campaign is a perfect example of this because of the quarters that defended it.

It’s not the crowdfunding itself that’s the issue: it’s a fairly straightforward and direct way for people to invest in a product release they’re interested in. Palmer’s campaign raised $1.2 million, over ten times what she asked for. But despite securing more funds than she expected, she didn’t account for paying musicians to tour with her and ended up asking local musicians to play with her in exchange for a beer and a high-five/hug.

Steve Albini was one of the voices that disagreed with Palmer’s approach, stating it was, "just plain rude to ask for further indulgences from your audience, like playing in your backing band for free." He received a lot of flak for complaining but stood his ground, explaining that, "It’s cheapness repainted as generosity and it’s gross."

As far as defenders, Douglas Rushkoff was one of them. I was thoroughly enjoying his book Throwing Rocks at the Google Bus, only to be shocked that he praised Palmer’s approach. According to Rushkoff, her actions were "upsetting only when we look at it through the industrial lens of big corporations exploiting humans." The labour she asked fans for was simply "the fruits of a gift economy." Except this isn't a gift economy—the gift economy exists between fans who are on even ground, not with the person they idolize.

He also believes that a “midlist singer” like Palmer cannot exploit her fans because she isn’t backed by a corporation. It’s a bizarre perspective that completely misunderstands the relationship between fans and their fan objects. Doing free labour—in this case, performing—can be a choice. But "If people want to do it, let them" doesn't get at the heart of the matter, which is that the long-term end result of this approach is. It doesn’t account for the profound emotional investment and attachment that fans can develop and the way sweat equity results in undeliverable expectations.

The Barbra Streisand museum that opened in 1996 shuttered its doors two years later. When speaking to SFGate, Joachim, who once was a superfan, sounded just like a disillusioned stan. Someone who has put in so much effort only to walk away "disgusted.” He went so far as to say that moving on from the museum felt “like I'm getting out of prison.”

If that doesn’t illustrate the danger of over-investing and performing work for a fan object, I don’t know what can. It’s also worth noting that Joachim was not subject to industry manipulation, and he still found himself profoundly disillusioned. Imagine how much worse it is when hordes of fans are guilted into spending hours, days, months, or years doing free work for someone by their fan object and fellow fans. How does it feel to step away from it? Can it be called loyalty when your dedication feels like a job, like a duty that needs to be performed?

I don't know what the perfect/symbiotic relationship between fan workers and industry is, but it should never be one that results in fans feeling shackled and guilted into participating. They cannot compensate for professional failures. They cannot substitute industry support, and they are not an indefatigable resource. They are individuals with expectations and attachments that can turn sour, in worst case scenarios, shifting their dedication towards destroying the very idol they helped prop up.

1. Not only was Wootton implicated in a “cash for leaks” scheme involving the Royals, he has been on the receiving end of incomprehensibly fucked up allegations of catfishing and elaborate sexual exploitation schemes that went on for years. Byline Times wrote multiple pieces on many of these matters that I highly recommend reading.