Freedom of speech no excuse for bad behaviour
The best satire, it seems to me, skirts just close enough to reality to make readers wonder whether or not it is satire, but with enough that’s outrageous to convince them it is. And it obviously has to be funny. That’s the main thing.
Satire is an art form that I understand requires delicate crafting.
I say understand because writing satirically is something you can either do or you can’t, in my experience, and I’m pretty sure I’m in the latter category.
But I have dealt with some of our best satirists. Steve Braunias’s ‘‘Secret Diary of ...’’ pieces used to run in Stuff’s Saturday papers, and I’m lucky enough now to encounter the weekly columns of Andrew Gunn, a finalist at this year’s Voyager Media Awards.
The best satire, it seems to me, skirts just close enough to reality to make readers wonder whether or not it is satire, but with enough that’s outrageous to convince them it is. And it obviously has to be funny.
That’s the main thing. It’s something of a regret having to put a satire label on Andrew’s pieces, because that defeats the object to an extent. But there have been times when the absence of that designation has had some readers thinking the comments he’s put into the mouths of various public
figures were actually their own words. I suppose it’s the price of having someone on the books who walks that line so successfully.
I mentioned to Andrew when he filed his column on Thursday that he may get a mention in this one too. ‘‘Would this be about the ‘satire’ defence of the Lawsoc show?’’ he asked. He was referring, of course, to the Law Revue, put on by the University of Canterbury’s largest student law club a couple of weeks ago, which is now the subject of a complaint being investigated by a university proctor.
Former Act MP Stephen Franks was quick to weigh in on the debate, in a press release on behalf of the much-vaunted Free Speech Coalition.
‘‘It appears possible the university pressed the students to apologise to a thin-skinned individual who was lampooned. He appears to have played the victim card to derail what sounds like essentially political satire,’’ he wrote in a release praising the university for its ‘‘refusal to be panicked into condemning the students’’.
When it comes to free speech Franks seems to be happy to support people’s right to say just about anything, presumably within the constraints of the law. He wrote that it had been ‘‘reassuring to read of the university’s refusal to jump to the prune-faced demands that it suppress the irreverence and bad taste mockery that is a timehonoured celebration of student freedom of speech’’.
It’s at times like this I remind myself that the admirable and defendable concept of freedom of speech fortunately does not imply an absence of consequences for that speech. The phrase ‘‘essentially political satire’’ seems much too easy a way to wriggle out of something wildly inappropriate and offensive. Perhaps Andrew Gunn could be paid by Law Revue sponsors Chapman Tripp – assuming they’re still on board after this – to take the producers of next year’s effort through the finer points of satire. Hint: if they included making fun of the disabled, Donald Trump would be a satirist rather than a political joke.
The ‘‘thin-skinned’’ individual Franks so blithely refers to is deaf law student Raymond Ellwood. There seems no sympathy for the plight of a man ‘‘lampooned’’ for his disability.
Ellwood has said he’s ‘‘not the best speaker so it is upsetting to be portrayed so negatively’’. He’s received widespread backing, including from someone who knows his struggle, New Zealand’s first deaf MP, Mojo Mathers.
‘‘One of my biggest hurdles entering politics was to overcome the shame I internalised about my speech,’’ she said.
It’s all very well to lampoon someone, or defend lampooning someone, who has a disability when you have no insight into their lived experience. It’s also a dick move on both counts.
There’s a massive element of privilege inherent in judging someone for the impact a disability you don’t understand has on their lives, just as there is in haranguing a 17-year-old Ma¯ ori waitress in racist terms when she’s taking your table’s orders at a restaurant.
Mia Griffiths, serving a table of 12 from James Hardie Industries at a restaurant in Auckland, says one commented: ‘‘I bet your wha¯ nau don’t come here often, do they. I bet they’re at home eating boil-up, that’s what they’re doing now.’’ Racist and vile, and worst of all, noone else at the table called him on it.
There might be some who’d argue he was exercising his freedom of speech, but again, there are consequences. Maybe that’s why some are so emboldened to anonymously spew vileness from behind a computer – it’s like a consequence-free zone.
I confront the line between freedom of speech and appropriateness of content daily, assessing letters submitted for publication. Many go straight in the round file, for reasons ranging from Holocaust denial to Islamophobia, homophobia and personal attacks.
Sometimes I get it wrong. I ran one this week taking issue with the comments of refugee and community activist Guled Mire, originally from Somalia but a naturalised Kiwi who has lived in New Zealand for 22 years. It suggested he should ‘‘show some humility and gratitude’’ rather than criticising New Zealand’s refugee policies, implying he was an ‘‘outsider’’ or ‘‘newcomer’’.
In retrospect, that crossed the line. It was undoubtedly xenophobic, arguably racist, and personal – and has drawn some responses saying as much. Fair enough. It’s on me.
I spoke to Guled on the phone, apologised for not examining it more thoroughly. I’m glad I did because it was important to hear his take on how such sentiments affect migrant and refugee communities. It’s not just about him, but many people.
It saddens me that this is the reality for many Kiwis seen as somehow ‘‘different’’ or ‘‘not one of us’’. Freedom of speech is all very well, but we need to check our privilege and be better.