Here we are, between Golden Globes and Oscars, and it seems a good time to think about celebrity. One of the first things I noticed when I arrived in America more than four decades ago was the American habit of celebrity watching. By celebrity watching, I mean reading about celebrities, watching them on TV or the computer, or making the effort to get physically close to famous people.

The habit has only strengthened with time. Nowadays, travel magazines promise that the destination described offers great opportunities for watching celebrities in person — the writers use the possibility of spotting celebrities on vacation to create excitement among their readers.

A recent article in the New York Times Travel section assured readers that in St. Moritz, Switzerland, “despite the scent of exclusivity … you are free to mingle” with celebrities such as “supermodels, business tycoons, former heads of state … the rich, the very rich, the royals and those who want to marry a royal.” Another Times article titled “Feeling at Home Among the Elite” told ordinary readers that they could fit into the rarified playground of Punta del Este, Uruguay, “despite its jet set reputation.”

This is not a welcome phenomenon. Celebrity is in one sense a celebration of the self-made: most famous stars, at least here in America, are from unknown families. Still, celebrity worship is also a reflection of moral and aesthetic relativism and the insecurity many feel about their social status in a highly competitive society. The habit also reflects that our criteria for high status are fluid. There is a growing uncertainty in American society as to what does or doesn’t deserve respect and admiration.

Why is Paris Hilton a celebrity? She is rich, good looking, a prominent socialite, and a playgirl. And she is successful at getting publicity: One of her partners made public a video of their sexual activities. Notoriety enhances celebrity status.

After sex and social life, what is most widely publicized about celebrities is their taste and possessions. The New Yorker, for example, informed us, “On his trip to Paris,” Sean Combs, now known as just Diddy, “was traveling with a trainer, a stylist and at least two personal assistants. In his Paris hotel suite there were several garment racks in the living room, with more than a dozen suits, scores of shirts, leather jackets, enough shoes to last a lifetime … flown over from New York. … Sunglasses had been arranged in three rows on a high table. … There were about ten pairs in each row, each pair in its original case, with the top flipped up.”

Why is such ogling, mingling, or rubbing of shoulders with celebrities in person such a source of pleasure and self-fulfillment?

Those who rejoice in rubbing shoulders harbor a hope that temporarily sharing the same physical space will elevate their own social standing. As the St. Moritz article put it, “You can attend their events, eat in their restaurants, walk among them, wear their clothes, sleep on the same luscious sheets.”

The real problem is the decline of community and the rise of social isolation. This leads to fantasies of having something in common with the rich and famous. Live celebrity watching expresses and exemplifies false consciousness. It is an attempt to find meaning and fulfillment in the life and the attributes of others far removed from one’s own circumstances.

Daniel Boorstin grasped the essentials of the celebrity cult half a century ago: “Our age has produced a new kind of eminence. … He is the human pseudo-event … a substitute for the hero who is the celebrity and whose main characteristic is well-knownness … anyone can become a celebrity if only he can get into the news and stay there. … The hero was distinguished by his achievement; the celebrity by his image or trademark.”

Many highly talented people, such as scientists, are not widely known and are not celebrities. They don’t provide entertainment, their skills and accomplishments are hard to emulate, and they are not uniformly good looking. If you are a scientist, but your daughter follows rock stars, you have not succeeded in conveying to her the importance of your work.

The celebrity cult is a form of vicarious gratification, an attempt at identification with those who possess attributes missing from the life of ordinary human beings: fame, wealth, vast amounts of attention, and, quite often, adulation. In today’s populist, socially mobile society, though, a growing number of individuals feel that they are entitled to the same privileges celebrities possess. They believe that each individual has limitless potential and that there are no exclusive elites. Like many of us, they want to transcend anonymity.

Becoming a celebrity is also an obvious avenue for enriching personal wealth. This is a motivation we can readily grasp – even if we dissent from the cult. If you are famous enough, sooner or later you will become rich, because fame sells.

Mr. Hollander is professor emeritus of sociology at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst.