It’s not just a Taylor Swift problem – several fandoms are guilty of vehemently shielding their stars from any form of critique. But for an artist of Swift’s stature and legacy, it begs the question: does Internet stan culture prohibit nuanced engagement with artists widely considered to be brilliant? The only records Swift is breaking, at this point, are her own: 1989 (Taylor’s Version), for instance, broke her own record as the most streamed artist in a day. An X user, posting a picture of the music magazine Pitchfork’s review which scored the album a 7.7 on 10, sarcastically wrote, “this is as low as a critic can go without being put into witness protection.” The post, although a humorous quip, elicited an alarmed response from several individuals who were quick to point out how in 2020, fans doxxed Pitchfork critic Jillian Mapes for giving Taylor Swift's 'Folklore' an 8 on 10, causing the Metacritic score to drop to 89 from 90. Despite Mapes' positive review where she compared Swift to Jane Eyre, and previous Pitchfork reviews comparing her to Pablo Neruda and Joni Mitchell, she faced death threats and harassment. Another critic, Chris Panella received death threats, homophobic slurs, accusations of being a pedophile, and more, for critiquing the Eras tour – again, in a largely positive piece which outlined few issues.

We’ve reached a critical threshold for critiquing art: there are some artists who are simply too immense, and whose fandoms are too powerful. Internet stan culture has arguably impacted the practice of critics providing nuanced, balanced assessments of artistic work. Taylor Swift, for instance, is one of the greatest artists of all time, as per several critical rankings. She’s broken several musical records; the general consensus about her is fairly positive. So why is she beginning to garner a reputation for being impossible to critique?

The thinning line between criticism and critique in fan culture corresponds directly to critics’ freedom of expression being severely curtailed. While dedicated fan bases are essential for artists' success, fans have begun to be known for harassing critics who don’t even dislike their artist, but who simply don’t praise them enough. The Guardian termed the recent wave of doxxing incidents, where music critics faced personal threats for merely performing their professional duties, as an "absolutism of stan culture." Swifties' totalizing devotion to the artist represents a desire for self-definition and a meaningful community. However, this devotion has taken a troubling turn as Swift’s persona grew exponentially, alongside her fandom. For one, Taylor Swift is popular and acclaimed enough – critique wouldn’t dent her stature, but only add to it. But the way her fans treat reviewers doesn’t speak to that. The situation becomes even more unsettling as Taylor Swift, known for valuing her privacy and going to lengths to protect herself from a breach, is largely silent in the face of such incidents transpiring in her name.

There was one notable exception. In 2019, Swift asked her fans to “let them know how you feel” [referring to her former manager and producer: Scott Borchetta and Scooter Braun] as she claimed they had barred her from performing her early-career hits –the creative rights to which she did not own at the time. It led to her fans doxxing both label owners. Soon after, the Big Machine Label Group put out an official statement, saying, “Taylor made a unilateral decision last night to enlist her fanbase in a calculated manner that greatly affects the safety of our employees and their families.”

How did we get here? British philosopher Dr. Angie Hobbs highlights an interesting paradox where individuals may not aspire to fame themselves but yearn for others to achieve it, creating a culture of vicarious living through glamorous figures. In this, the genesis of this overzealous defense can be traced to a history of mistreatment faced by women. Historical parallels with the cult-like devotion to figures like Princess Diana and Taylor Swift—white women, dearly loved by the masses— reveals that when media mistreatment occurs, it triggers a savior complex in those who perceive it as a personal affront. The mistreatment transforms into a personal crusade for those whose sense of purpose is deeply rooted in the public existence of these icons. And to be sure, Taylor Swift did receive her fair share of media mistreatment – she’s addressed it at length in her art too. But the public consensus on Taylor Swift is different now: she’s up there among the greatest of music legends, and has cemented her legacy as a formidable, culturally evergreen artist. Taylor Swift, today, is a phenomenon as much as she is an artist. The question then arises – does that make any critique of her work invalid or illegitimate?

Within the artistic ecosystem, the place of critique ranks high since the iterative process ensures accountability in terms of cultural conversations and enables the refinement of the artist’s musical expression and versatility. To that effect, the dismissal of all critical reviews – in the name of protecting artists from unfair censure – shields artists from constructive criticism too, which limits the space for growth and engagement with different audiences.

Still, when it comes to pop stars, perceived success often matters as much as actual success. In Taylor Swift’s case, the idea of her being a target of vicious, sexist criticism and critical dismissal has persisted despite the reality having changed in her favor. Swift embraced the universal appeal of portraying oneself as the underdog – common amongst Black artists in Jazz and Hip Hop – despite coming from a fairly privileged background. Leah Donella, an editor at NPR, commenting on Swift’s track “Mean” wrote, “How validating, to craft an entire disgruntled ballad to convey that you didn't appreciate someone's feedback”. While Dayna Evans, argues that "the underdog narrative that the Swift machine has built is one of forced falsehoods; Swift is not coming from behind. She's been ahead since she started". And it may be argued that her success lies in selling the paradox that one can be a powerful pop star yet still feel victimized by ordinary people– such as the critics. As The Washington Post noted in its review: “Swift is always honing the illusion that she’s an underdog — a global superstar earnestly beseeching our sympathies, our ears and our dollars while simultaneously making the notion of overexposure feel utterly obsolete.”

Indeed, Swift as a persona has used her all-encompassing reach to address systemic violence, making political statements in the past – which only solidified her ‘mother-like’ image in the eyes of her fans. Yet, her music on the contrary, has barely been revolutionary, and critics of her brand of music – which often draws on personal anecdotes – have been unkind about it. Even if Swift's early trajectory was marred by exploitative producers and critics pigeonholing her as a creator of “chick songs,” her image as a ‘teenage girl crying about her exes’ transformed into the tale of a woman’s resilience against systemic biases, and as one of the 21st century’s great confessional artists. Despite this strong shift in critical reception towards mostly laudatory, fans continue to stonewall every critic, purging anything but pure consensus – hazed by the embodied virtuosity of Taylor Swift. And that’s to the detriment of her legacy.