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LONDON, June 30 - It is virtually impossible these days to open a newspaper or turn on the television here without confronting the cavalier locks, rumpled visage and hectoring tones of Sir Bob Geldof, the former Boomtown Rats lead singer now cast by friends and foes alike as Africa's savior.

With awesome ubiquity - a rock concert here, a documentary there, interviews at every turn - he offers his listeners a blend of profanity, rage and messianic imprecation, urging the political leaders of the developed world to end Africa's poverty by rewriting the rules on aid, trade and debt. "To die of hunger is an intellectual absurdity and morally repulsive," he told the crowd last weekend at a rock concert in Glastonbury in western England.

This weekend, in anticipation of the annual summit meeting of the Group of 8 nations in Scotland next week, there are to be demonstrations and free concerts spanning the globe under the title Live 8. Beyond the high-sounding pronouncements, though, the last-minute series of events arranged by Sir Bob signals a profound and to some a worrisome shift in the realm of mass advocacy by the world's richest in the name of the poorest.

Celebrity and politics have merged, revolutionizing the aid business as much as the celebrity business. Today, no well-heeled rock or movie star can ignore the lure of association with a good cause; no politician can resist the siren call of stars whose message reaches an audience beyond the realm of formal politics. But aid specialists are questioning whether the emphasis on celebrities and one-time hyper events does not do more harm than good, distracting attention from the difficult, long-term problems. "We have given up on politicians as achievers of transformation," Chris Blackhurst, an editor, wrote in The Evening Standard of London. "In this age of celebrity, this summer, the celebrity has become king."

The alliance of forces focusing their demands on the Group of 8 leaders embraces cardinals and moviemakers, rock stars and Hollywood actors like Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, Al Pacino and Cameron Diaz. The events arranged by Sir Bob carry more than an echo of the Live Aid concerts he arranged 20 years ago in response to famine in Ethiopia.

Unlike the case at Live Aid, though, Sir Bob is not asking for money. This time he is seeking an overwhelming show of political support to remind Group of 8 leaders of the power they wield. Last weekend a prime-time television movie by Richard Curtis - a major Geldof ally and supporter of Britain's Make Poverty History campaign - illustrated some of the thinking.

Titled "The Girl in the Cafe," the movie, shown on the BBC and HBO, revolved around a fictional summit meeting in Reykjavik, Iceland, where romance between a meek middle-aged civil servant - Lawrence - and a mysterious young woman - Gina - intertwines with the politics of global poverty.

"Eight men in one room could quite literally save hundreds of millions of lives," Lawrence, played by Bill Nighy, says in the movie, echoing a campaign slogan.

Aid specialists are not nearly so confident, however. "It's a good thing, in that the focus is on Africa," said Richard Dowden, leader of the Royal African Society, a private policy research body. "The danger is that it concentrates on one big push, and if you don't get what you are asking for, you are setting yourself up for disillusionment."

Indeed, some fundamental assumptions of the campaign are also being challenged. Will good intentions be thwarted by corrupt governments? Can African administrations cope with a surge of increased aid? "The future of Africa is not going to be decided by rock concerts but by African politicians making good decisions," Mr. Dowden said.

Sir Bob dismisses those concerns. "I am withering in my scorn for the columnists who say, 'It's not going to work,' " he said. "Even if it doesn't work, what do they propose? Every night forever watching people live on TV dying on our screens?"

In fact, there are those who argue that doing something for the sake of it can be as damaging as doing nothing. Even the Live Aid concerts 20 years ago "did harm as well as good," said David Rieff, a New York-based writer and authority on humanitarian aid. "The Live 8 phenomenon is part of this Western fantasy of omnipotence," Mr. Rieff continued in a telephone interview, "a politically correct version of the imperial impulse to give some money and all will be well, as if the problems of Africa are just the results of our not paying enough attention."

But, Mr. Rieff acknowledged, "Live Aid became the prototype for a new kind of celebrity activism - from Richard Gere campaigning for Tibet to benefit concerts for the Asian tsunami." He might also have mentioned Sharon Stone's campaign for mosquito nets to fight malaria or Ms. Jolie supporting refugees.

On Saturday, in Edinburgh, south of Gleneagles where the real meeting will take place, tens of thousands of people are being enjoined by the Make Poverty History campaign to wear white T-shirts and form a human loop around the entire city - magnifying the white wrist band that is one of the campaign's motifs.

"Governments only respond when their citizens put pressure on them," said Kumi Naidoo, a prominent South African activist who is the leader of the Global Call to Action against Poverty, which unites thousands of volunteer, labor union, church and not-for-profit groups in more than 70 countries. "The best chance we have is to mobilize the biggest amount of pressure on the G-8."

Church leaders, too, have joined the calls on Prime Minister Tony Blair of Britain and President Bush to agree on measures to eradicate poverty. "For the first time in history, humanity possesses the information, knowledge, technology and resources to bring the worst of global poverty to an end," said a statement on Wednesday from the Trans-Atlantic Forum on Poverty, a group of American, African and British religious leaders. The alliances might once have seemed improbable.

Prime Minister Blair has put Africa along with global warming at the head of the summit meeting's agenda.

To some, the links with politicians seem too cozy. In Ireland, Bono has faced criticism from people like Niall Stokes, the editor of the Irish music magazine Hot Press. "Politics and rock 'n' roll don't go together all that well most of the time," he said.

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Bob Geldof, Charity Saint and Foul - Mouthed Bully