You just can't get a decent celebrity anymore. Simone de Beauvoir, now there was a woman to be celebrated. She was a professor at the renowned Sorbonne University and co-founded the monthly review Les Temps Modernes which was for twenty-five years the most prominent forum for radical political and philosophical debate. She was arguably the most famous female French philosopher and published a book about a love affair with her female college student. All of this in the 1930s. Now that is something to be remembered for.

By comparison, Paris Hilton just doesn't cut it. But is there a clear dichotomy between Paris on the one hand representing the superficiality of 'celebrity' and Madonna on the other hand representing a more deserving recognition?

In a recent Sydney Institute presentation, critic, author and celebrated humorist Clive James referred to Robert Mitchum as a man worthy of recognition. Mitchum commanded presence in every situation, from the café to the big screen. He brought people to their feet. But for Clive, Burt Lancaster was guilty of succumbing to the corruption of celebrity, having once required a black Mercedes to drive him 200 meters from the set to the lunch tent.

What disturbed Clive most about this was that there were people willing to debase themselves in Lancaster's presence; devotees to the cause of publicity.

"There is a total ineradicable tendency towards subservience in the universe,"he said. "The public relations entourage, the producers and minders, those who 'craft the message' that dilutes, packages and force feeds whatever art or talent once existed. These are the parasites of celebrity, the lovers of lowliness".

The cringe factor is that we are drawn to celebrity. We want to engage with its licentiousness. We want someone to admire, to copy and adore. Nothing could be more false than the dichotomy between celebrity and honourable recognition because we are all fascinated by celebrity gossip. No matter how superficial, we are drawn to the pain and sadness of what we are not. For me it's the pictures of extremely thin famous women. Narcissistic, I know, but it makes me warm inside.

Criticising celebrity may seem a bit passé to some, but I have to ask, what exactly has Paris Hilton achieved that is worthy of recognition? In what way has she used her power, money and popularity to create change or contribute to a more just world? She is photographed, scrutinised, publicised and fawned upon. And yet she signifies nothing, like the mangled words of a dementia-ridden mind. Paris is the blackhole of consciousness; the epitome of society's attention deficit.

(I am allowed to say that since last month's nationwide changes in Australian defamation laws. The change removed a legal test that to be legitimate, defamation had to be 'in the public interest'. A terrifying term not least because it is surrounded in subjectivity. I would certainly prefer to define the public interest for myself, rather than have John Howard, Alexander Downer and the AWB executives do it for me. Anyway, now defamation is allowed, so long as it's the truth. As David Marr recently said at the ABC defamation forum, "Now we are allowed to call Alan Jones a poof".)

See, even when writing about Paris you can't stay focussed on her.

Here's what the illustrious Wikipedia - an ecological celebrity in itself - says about Paris:

"In addition to being a famous socialite, she has also done modelling and acting . She has been described as a "celebutante," a portmanteau of 'celebrity' and 'debutante".

Both Paris and de Beauvoir represent the primary qualities of celebrity.   They are personally, ideologically and more importantly, socio-economically removed from our lives. They embody what we are not, what we will never be - known and valued on a massive scale. The times I have enjoyed celebrity gossip have reduced this distance between the great icons and the realism of most people's mass-murder-inducing boredom.

Sitting on a balcony eating dinner with rich lesbians overlooking Sydney harbour, I get the latest instalment:

"Russ and Danielle look like they're home tonight."

"Or they could just be lending it out to someone."

"Have they put up new curtains?"

"Have you got any binoculars?"

Which brings me to Madonna. If there is still a true celebrity, with all the froth and bubble alongside a great deal of authenticity - Madonna is she. On her last interview with Michael Parkinson, he suggested that her age had finally become a factor in her video gyrations and sexy lyrics. She hit right back with a question about when his grey hair might start to look a little out of date on TV. Now that's a woman with style.

She told Parkinson that she had a baby because she wanted to have a sense of something bigger than herself, and to develop a sense of meaning about life. That's a person worth celebrating. At the end of their stoush, Parkinson told BBC News "Madonna is one of the great stars of the modern era. She can hold her own against any star in the 20th century."

In 2000 Jennifer Baumgardner and Amy Richards had the final word on the future of feminism in their book, Manifesta . They refer to Madonna, Missy Elliott and the exquisite Roseanne as women who have overturned the objectification of women.

"All have parlayed their sexual selves into power in feminist ways. These women aren't exploited. They are whole women - both confident and conscious".

Perhaps that's the deciding factor on celebrity and recognition. Does Paris Hilton, Jessica Simpson or Bec Cartwright set out in a conscious and confident way to shift public perception about what it means to be a woman, to be privileged, to be famous? Maybe I'm asking too much, but a little reflection and subversion go a long way.

Meaghan Vosz

Manifesta: Young Women, Feminism and the Future, 2000 Farrar, Straus and Girroux, New York 103.