A recent quote in The Irish Times from Elijah Hewson, Bono’s son and Inhaler frontman, caught my attention:
"You know, if you grow up in a house of music, you’re probably going to want to do music. Same if your dad back in the medieval ages was a blacksmith."
Aye, because 14th-century Europe was just brimming with vocational freedom. You can almost picture the weary peasant son, wiping the soot from his brow, saying, “You know what, Papa? I think I’d rather get into property investment.” And off he goes, merrily diversifying his feudal portfolio.
This kind of thinking—where opportunity is framed as an inevitability rather than a privilege—reminded me of something Sophie Pender said in a video I watched recently. The British social mobility campaigner discussed how those raised in privilege are rarely confronted with their luck, largely because they’re cocooned within elite institutions from birth. This might explain why some beneficiaries of nepotism get particularly tetchy when the subject arises—after all, if you've never been confronted with your luck, you might find the conversation 'annoying and boring,' as Dakota Johnson put it.
Now, I’m not saying nepotism negates the talent of the person benefiting. It’s that their talent has been advantaged by nepotism. If you’ve never had to worry about rent, studio costs, or balancing a job with your creative ambitions, it’s easy to believe success is simply about talent and drive. But for those without the safety net, the path isn’t just harder—it’s often completely inaccessible.
While nepo babies cruise along an airport travelator, en route to another sunny destination, the rest are dragging their luggage up a flight of stairs with a sticky handrail, hoping the departure gate isn’t closed by the time they get there.
Of course, whenever nepotism is brought up, there’s always someone ready to defend the system, and usually by missing the point. Martin Clunes, of Men Behaving Badly and Doc Martin fame, recently weighed in on the topic, claiming the entertainment industry is “too on-show to carry a dolt” and that the children of successful actors don’t get work just because of who their parents are.
It’s a nice idea, but reality tells a different story. Clunes was speaking about Louis Ashbourne Serkis, son of Andy Serkis and Lorraine Ashbourne, who landed his first TV role at the age of 10. Clunes insists that if Serkis were “no good, he wouldn’t get the gig.” But that’s not the issue, is it?
No one is saying every nepo baby is talentless (though we’ve all seen a few go far with very little). The point is that these opportunities—early exposure, the right introductions, the chance to fail and still get another shot—are simply not available to those without the right connections.
Clunes claims the industry won’t “carry a dolt,” but it has no issue carrying people with potential—as long as they have the right connections. Take Robert Downey Jr., for example. His talent is undeniable, but how many times was he able to fail before he finally got it right? He was arrested multiple times, spent years battling addiction, and still got handed more opportunities—because he had a safety net. His dad, a filmmaker, had the connections to ensure that doors never fully closed for him. Now, imagine an unknown actor with the same level of self-destruction—would they have had the same number of second chances? Or would they have simply become another cautionary tale, left behind because they didn’t have someone powerful willing to vouch for them?
Nepotism isn’t just about getting the job; it’s about getting in the room at all. It’s about the freedom to fail—again and again—without risking everything.
And this isn’t just an issue in music or film—it’s part of a much deeper problem. In my work as a support worker for the homeless, I meet people who have been conditioned to create their own "class ceiling." When you've been shut out of opportunities your whole life, you start to believe certain things simply aren't for you. I’ve met people who see a key to their own room as “posh,” something reserved for a different kind of person. Imagine growing up with that mindset and then trying to step into an industry where unpaid internships, networking events, and "taking a risk on yourself" are the norm.
No one thinks the music and entertainment industries are true meritocracies. ‘It’s not what you know, it’s who you know’ might as well be the official motto. Yet, whenever nepotism comes up, we’re supposed to believe that talent—not connections—is what really counts.
Of course, the nepotism debate isn’t always straightforward. Take Lola Young, who’s been accused of being a nepo baby because her aunt wrote The Gruffalo. As if the music industry and children’s publishing were interchangeable. She studied at the BRIT School and worked her way up, yet the moment she became successful, people started digging for family connections. Maybe it’s a sign of how cynical we’ve become that anyone who breaks through is now assumed to have had a leg up. Then again, if the system weren’t so stacked, would we be looking for one?
Great art isn’t born in a boardroom, and culture doesn’t just belong to the privileged few who have the luxury of giving it a crack—secure in the knowledge that failure won’t cost them everything. For some, ‘taking a risk’ is just another phase of self-discovery. For others, it’s a gamble with no safety net. The best ideas, the most vital voices, often come from those who have something to prove—who have struggled, who have fought for their place, who have seen the world from below, not just from above. (and then they have kids.) If the creative industries want to stay relevant, they’ll have to make room for those voices again. Otherwise, they’ll be nothing more than an echo chamber for the already comfortable—the kind who likely nodded along when Rishi Sunak claimed he knew hardship because he didn’t have Sky TV.
Maybe I should end with a call to action. Stop indulging those who’ve benefited from nepotism. Stop watching their movies, stop listening to their music (stop voting for them). But that wouldn’t be fair, would it?