Wait, there's
a Leak in my Truth
When cartoonists and
comedians get angry, and it becomes clear they're angry, they lose
their power. It's a bit like the fool who turns on his master and
challenges him physically without cleverness or humour; then he is no
longer the fool but an up-coming master. Recent pieces in The
Australian by cartoonist Bill Leak - where he complains about the
"sanctimonious Tweety Birds having a tantrum" - are an
example of the fool showing he's taken a hit, he's having to be
serious.
Leak's anger is in
regard to people reacting to a series of cartoons he has done about
aboriginal poverty and social dysfunction, in particular a cartoon
where a policeman hands an aboriginal child to an older aboriginal
man, with the caption: Policeman, “You'll have to sit down and talk
to your son about personal responsibility.” Father, “Yeah righto,
what's his name then?”
This cartoon has been
criticised as encouraging racial stereotypes and adding nothing new
to the debate. (It's also been criticised for not being funny, but
that, while very relevant, is a whole other matter).
The Australian has
defended Leak. "Bill Leak's confronting and insightful cartoons
force people to examine the core issues in a way that sometimes
reporting and analysis can fail to do." How they actually force
us to examine core issues is simply not explained; all Leak's
cartoons are really doing is amplifying the fact that some aboriginal
people are living in squalor and don't know what their own children
are up to. The very important word here is 'SOME'. It's actually a
very small 'some'.
Along with Leak's angry
statements, there is also a current trend, an avalanche even, of
comedians and social commentators who are arguing their right to be
rude, nasty and abusive.
Consequently, any
criticism of people who use cruel language about others (nigger,
poofter, Paki, ape etc) is being interpreted as an infringement on
freedom of speech. 'The good old days' is so often referred to as a
better time when we were able to talk about others by using derisive
stereotypical terms. 'Political correctness', once a term that
referred to absurd euphemism – down-sizing instead of firing,
overweight instead of fat, diminutive or vertically challenged
instead of small – has been overtaken by people who feel robbed of
their chance to be cruel or 'incorrect'. In a similar vein,
'political correctness' was used by John Howard as a way of damning
anyone who didn't like his politics on reconciliation and his refusal
to say 'sorry' to aboriginal people.
Context is important
though, as any comedian will tell you. There's no such thing as a
word or term that can never be expressed. I've just written four in
parenthesis above, and I doubt anyone would accuse me of bigotry or
insensitivity. Also I believe there's a way of expressing our dislike
or 'upsetness' if you will, without telling people off or implying
they are somehow monstrous because of their use of certain words.
I used to have
neighbours who occasionally referred to aboriginal people as 'coons'.
These people don't hate aboriginal people; in fact they had affection
and care for aboriginal children who visited as friends of their own
children. And I have to say that these neighbours are possibly the
most generous folk I've met; they would stand up for anyone in need
or any person mistreated by others. Nor were they scared, which most
racist people are. So, when I first heard them call blacks 'coons', I
was shocked, but I didn't get angry and walk out, nor did I say “you
shouldn't” or “you can't”. What I did say was, 'Wow, I didn't
realise we were in the deep south of America in the 1950s!” (or
words to that effect). I also laughed as I said it. They responded
well, not by saying sorry (and I wasn't expecting that); instead they
acknowledged that I didn't appreciate the language and said they
wouldn't use that word around me.
So why didn't I get
angry? Why not show my disgust? Because I had to live with these
folk, and I'd seen a side to them that I really respected. And I knew
that the 'c' word rolled off their tongues as the other 'c' word also
pops out amongst some Australian men who, it seems, don't have too
many other ways of showing love and affection to other men. Yes, it
might seem strange that a man has to say “Hey ya cunt” in order
to be friendly, but it's not going to be changed through sanctimony
or approbation.
At the same time it's
important to accept that language affects the way we think; in fact
most of the time we think through words. Yes, tone, volume and facial
expression are all linguistic forms that affect emotion, but words
are what the arguments are all about when the old 'PC' accusations
pop up. And I believe there's a need to question the motives of those
who complain about not being able to use cruel and nasty language.
When they trot out the old line about how 'the PC police are out to
get me' I cringe inside, knowing that the fight against political
correctness, in its original form, was really about trying to make
language clear, less deceptive; it had nothing to do with allowing
people to be abusive.
But, when it comes down
to challenging abusive behaviour and abusive language, it's the HOW
that's so crucial. When aboriginal Australian footballer Adam Goodes
paused mid-game to point out a person who called him a 'big ape' he
was simply expressing the fact that terms like that hurt. It's
unlikely he knew it was a teenage girl who said it – he was fairly
busy at the time! - and he really didn't have time to sit down and
formulate some 'I' statement as the psychologists recommend. No, he
ran to the fence and pointed angrily. Now, I believe that should have
been the end of it. It would have become clear why he stopped and
pointed; the various commentators would have found out what happened
and Goodes would have been able to explain his actions when he was
calm and less worked up. But unfortunately the authorities had to get
involved, so the girl was removed from the game. That was a mistake.
Another mistake
occurred in Canada when a comedian called Mike Ward was fined $42,000
by Quebec Human Rights Tribunal for joke about a young man who
suffered from Treacher Collins syndrome — a condition that affects
the development of bones and tissues in the face. The child is also a
competent singer, and once sang for the pope. Now for the context.
Ward had been under the impression the kid was terminally ill, and
was being granted a dying wish by a children's foundation. Ward's
joke was in reference to the fact that the child was still alive five
years after his condition became news. Here's the offending routine:
"But five years later, he wasn't dead, he's not dying. The
little bastard, he's just not dying!"
The upshot of this
comedy routine is that news organisations and social media jumped on
it, and the child was not only bullied at school but became so upset
he attempted suicide. Ward's defence that there was a "clear
difference between harassment against a person and an artistic work
being produced before a willing audience” was dismissed by the
tribunal. Ward's lawyers are appealing the decision.
Now, given the bare
information about the offending joke, it probably doesn't sound that
funny. But once again, there's important context to consider. When
commercial media get hold of the stories of children with
disabilities, deformities or serious illness, they lead their
audience down a path of emotional seduction that seems genuine, and
in some cases is, but there's something within us (certainly within
me) that feels like we're being conned. Our emotions are being tugged
at with the claws of a monetised, ubiquitous monster that just seems
to be getting bigger every day. It's a monster that feigns compassion
– seems, in fact, to have compassion dripping form every pore –
but really just wants the bucks: TV, magazines, commercial radio,
social media and bill boards all over town. We can try to avoid these
messages, but really you'd have to be Amish or a cave dweller to not
to be somehow affected by the emotional manipulation of the media
machine.
And it's the charity
events where the emotion gushes to the point of a flood.
Eventually we're going
to feel we've had enough of the sickly sweet, all too often
patronising, outpouring of 'goodness', and it's then that we react.
And here lies the function of sick humour: it's an 'up-yours' to the
media machine's attempts to make us feel deeply about someone we
don't even know. All sick jokes are based on this kind of principle.
Princess Diana jokes, astronaut jokes, dead celebrity jokes, dead
baby jokes. All ways for us to act like Punch – the naughty puppet
– and push briefly against a tide of moral compunction, knowing
full well we AREN'T Punch, and we aren't really lacking compassion or
feeling, we're just sick of being psychologically pushed around.
Mike Ward's joke is
funny because his audience have felt this same reaction, and here is
a guy standing on a stage who has the guts to express it. Like the
joke or hate it, it pressed a button and got a reaction.
Now, I don't know what
Ward said after this joke; had he then launched into an attack on the
billionaires and media managers behind these stories – in the
manner of a George Carlin routine – then his nasty line about a
deformed child might have a social and political point. It would have
turned the blackness, the sickness around and shone a light on the
hideous sickness of media power and the political abuse of that
power. But not all comedians are George Carlins, Lennie Bruces or
Bill Hicks's. It's far too much to expect, and it'd be boring if they
were.
To fine people for what
they say or write is something I deplore. It simply goes against the
grain, in the same way I hate it when a security guard hassles a
heckler at a comedy show. It should be up to the people who are
supposed to be controlling the room – the comedians – to deal
with that. Once authority gets involved the emotional and
intellectual atmosphere changes, it becomes dark and people tend to
form groups who more often than not oppose each other. But sometimes
the abuse, the behaviour, the words, are so harsh and so affective,
if you will, that we can't simply leave it up to the comedians, the
public or, the media or Facebook and Twitter to deal with.
And yes, there are
situations where language should be challenged and regulated. If I
decided to start throwing the 'C' and 'F' words around at a football
match in front of children and their parents, I would expect
complaint in some form. And not all parents feel confident enough to
challenge the swearer; they might not want their children to see them
involved in physical scuffle. So, in that situation, I would expect
someone, either a member of the public or an official to give me a
warning.
But when artists –
comedians, writers, painters, cartoonists and musicians – are
officially sanctioned or fined for their work, it's a very different
story. It's not something that should happen, and in Australia their
rights, which some claim are compromised in 18 C of the Racial
Discrimination Act, are actually protected in by sub-section 18 D
Section18C
does not render unlawful anything said or done reasonably and in good
faith:
(a) in the
performance, exhibition or distribution of an artistic work; or
(b) in the
course of any statement, publication, discussion or debate made or
held for any genuine academic, artistic or scientific purpose or any
other genuine purpose in the public interest; or
(c) in
making or publishing:
(I) a fair
and accurate report of any event or matter of public interest; or
(ii) a fair
comment on any event or matter of public interest if the comment is
an expression of a genuine belief held by the person
making the comment
So, getting back to
Bill Leak. He hasn't been fined (as Mike Ward has in Canada), and no
one has checked him or held him back. All that's happened is a
growing number of people have criticised him on social media, and
some in various letters to editors (although Leak's own Australian
newspaper has chosen to publish mainly letters defending him).
Commentators on television and radio have also discussed the issue of
his indigenous cartoons.
Leak has responded with
more cartoons, in particular one where HE is the kid being handed
over, but he's being handed over to a bearded, bespectacled bloke in
a Twitter T shirt and carrying a noose and bludgeon.
The sad thing about
this is that a cartoonist is crying 'victim' in the same way some
comedians are crying 'Orwell' by referring to the 'thought police'
when they're criticised for making abusive and unfunny jokes about race, rape and
disability. Leak is saying he's being socially lynched by a mob of
people who all have the same thought: “Stop this artist now!” And
yes, there might be some who want to stop him, but I'd say most of
Leak's critics, like me, simply want to point out the flaws in his
work, particularly given the fact that his cartoons are appearing in
a newspaper owned by one of the richest and most powerful men in the
world. In this sense, Leak the fool, is inflating the King's ego (or
at least the paradigm of the 'King's' conservative newspaper) not
prodding or pricking the King as we expect all fools to do.
Up until nowadays I've
always loved Leak's work. The series of dog-fucking cartoons he did
about the Malaysian prime minister – as an answer to Malaysian
accusations towards Australian politicians along the same lines – were terrific. And his cartoon
with two women wearing burqas and one asking, “Does my bomb look
big in this?' is a work of genius. Mainly because it's funny, not
just because it's confronting.
But the defence of “I'm
just telling the truth” is, paradoxically, as disingenuous as you
can get. It's similar to the pathetic bleat by journalists that all
they're doing is reflecting public opinion. No, they're influencing
public opinion and so is Leak.