Folau: fire, fires, fired

Jeremy Elwood

Who knew that the latest controversy over Israel would be due to a rugby player? Especially in the same week that an Israeli-built space lander crashed into the Moon, and elections occurred which could make Benjamin Netanyahu the longest-serving leader since David Ben-Gurion, on the back of a promise to reincorporate long-disputed settlements in Gaza and the West Bank.

The fact is that if you had Googled ‘‘Israel’’ recently, you would more than likely have been sent to an Instagram account of somebody who, if it wasn’t for his alleged ability to catch a bag full of air, would be one step below an insignificant nobody when it came to current affairs.

This is life in the social media era. One guy – who anybody who doesn’t live in one of the four countries on Earth who take rugby seriously (and plenty who do) have never heard of – can dominate a conversation about which he has no knowledge, no stake, and provides no useful contribution.

For God’s sake (pun intended), he quoted Leviticus. For anyone who follows the Bible, Leviticus is the Phantom Menace of the franchise. The hard-core Star Wars fans and completists are into it, but the majority think it was unnecessary, overblown and unhelpful to the overarching storyline. Which makes Israel the Jar Jar Binks of this whole tale. A cartoon caricature which we’d all be best off ignoring, or at the least burying in the sands of Tatooine until there is some excuse to dust him off for a gag reel.

At least this time, it looks like he’s done. I don’t like to take pleasure in anyone’s downfall, but when it includes a millionaire boof-head who used his undeserved media status to advocate for hate, I’m willing to make an exception. Perhaps if his fall from grace triggers a bigger discussion about the archaic attitudes from many religious organisations when it comes to sexuality and personal lifestyles, it was worth it. Time will tell.

He’s obviously entitled to his opinion, but his employers and the rest of us are equally entitled to their own codes of conduct and acceptance. If he wants to spout his nonsense as a private citizen, then he should be allowed to, and we should all be allowed to mock, debate or criticise him. However, no one should see his censorship by any group who are paying him – handsomely – as a restriction on his rights. This isn’t turning the Bible into hate speech, it’s acknowledging that words can harm, especially when they come from a role model.

Over the past month, we’ve surely learnt that. Over the months ahead, surely we can have some thought over what we say, who we say it to, and why.

Michele A’Court

As you unwrap your Easter eggs while your hot cross buns toast this weekend, there are two things I’d like to note about the Israel Folau brouhaha, plus a bonus point. First, none of us really gets to say exactly what we want without consequences. You and I can’t shout ‘‘fire’’ in a crowded space when there isn’t one, for example, because the ensuing panic from a nonsense threat has the potential to cause real harm.

We also have specific restrictions on what we say in public, depending on who we work for. There is likely to be a clause in your employment contract (have a squiz over the holiday weekend) that says you can’t make public statements in direct contradiction to the kaupapa of your company. If the company you work for is working hard (not before time) to be inclusive of people of diverse gender or sexual orientation, you either find a way to make your peace with that, or you go work somewhere else. That goes for plumbers, lawyers and everyone else. Professional rugby players aren’t that special.

Second, it’s easy for someone like me – straight, Pa¯ keha¯ , old enough to not care what other people think – to dismiss Folau republishing bits of the Old Testament on social media as ‘‘a nonsense threat’’ because I’m firm in my belief that there is no vengeful god, and that love is not a sin. Folau can shout: ‘‘You will burn in the fires of hell!’’ without causing me to even look for the exits.

But, the fact remains, he is shouting in a crowded room, and some of his 337,000 Instagram fans and 125,000 Twitter followers will be young Pasifika men and women grappling with their sexuality (like we all do as kids) and whose families and communities give weight to his views. His life is aspirational, and his views are taken seriously. Imagine the harm he has the power to do.

Third point for the bonus: when someone has that big a voice, whose voices aren’t we hearing? I am so much less interested in hearing Folau’s (or Brian Tamaki’s) thoughts about gay people than I am in hearing gay people’s thoughts about gay people.

It’s such a great question: who aren’t we hearing? On Monday, Simon Bridges said the National Party’s review of its own culture – aimed at ensuring women are safe within the party – had apparently failed to engage women MPs in the discussion. Say what, now?

One of the shiningly bright points about public discourse since

March 15 is that we haven’t just talked about white supremacy, we have begun to hear Muslim voices. Let’s keep actively looking for all the voices that are missing.

Double take Husband and wife comedians give their views on a shared subject.