KEYBOARD MOBS AND HOW TO DEAL WITH THEM
KARIMA Brown can only be described as someone larger than life, a fiercely independent journalist who was always ready to take on the world at all costs.
I have yet to come across someone as brave and relentless in their pursuit of truth and justice. When others shied away from speaking truth to power as they were worried about losing their jobs or their privilege, she would always say she was prepared to face down starvation for what was right.
I first became close to Karima when she was Group Politics Editor at Independent Media, and she was effectively my immediate boss.
From day one she filled me with awe, inspiration, and a bit of trepidation. Everyone who has worked with Karima knew that she was a hard task-master and expected as much from you as she expected from herself, which usually meant perfection, or at least a brilliant analysis of the situation at hand.
Karima never suffered fools, and if you were to make it under her mentorship you had to have read all the day’s news by 7am. I was always relieved that my specialisation was foreign affairs and not the entire expanse of local politics.
I remember in the pre-Covid days Karima would regularly ask me to come on to analyse the week’s newspapers, but it was a daunting task, as no matter how many newspapers I had managed to read in one week, Karima would always know more than her guest expert, and have the real back story associated with any unfolding drama.
She had her secret network of contacts that stretched far and wide into every sector of the country, and I most admired her for her loyal following among those on the left who were as committed to social justice and human rights as she was.
Whatever a person’s level in society, Karima held everyone to the same standard, and had zero tolerance for corruption, back room deals, dishonesty and greed. As a result, she had her detractors, but there is no denying that she was widely respected as a member of the Fourth Estate across the country.
Her sudden passing after a relatively short battle against Covid-19 has shocked and stunned the country, as her familiar face and lively analysis on eNCA has made her a household name, and a trusted source of information.
Karima was loved by many but was personally close to a small inner circle of friends and family members.
The irony of this last year in lockdown was that in her copious Facebook posts, Karima was continuously expressing concern for those who had contracted Covid-19 – she was always asking people to light a candle in solidarity with their families in what became a monumental national struggle for survival. She would regularly report on the latest number of infections and deaths, and encouraged people to play their part by masking up and social distancing.
Life has a very strange way of throwing the worst curve balls. For someone who struggled with asthma, Karima was always extra careful in terms of taking preventive measures, and spent most of the past year at home. She regularly shared her imaginative lockdown recipes as she became a budding chef, and I looked forward to the day I would partake in her newfound skill. But somehow, somewhere, the virus got her.
It breaks my heart to think that she had interviewed Ambassador Barry Gilder and me on her second to last
show on January 31. Gilder had always wanted Karima and me to go to Damascus and report on the realities on the ground there, and we almost went just before the pandemic set in, but as it turns out, it was the trip that was never to be.
Even though Karima was best known for her analysis on local South African politics, she was well versed in international affairs, and the Middle East was of great interest to her.
She would have covered the realities on the ground in Syria just as she saw them, pulling no punches and giving a voice to the voiceless. When it came to the rights of the Palestinians and the Sahrawis, Karima was equally vocal in her support of their struggles for self-determination. Karima never hid her light under a bushel, she shone it brightly and fought bravely.
The girl who came from Mitchells Plain on the Cape Flats, and who rose to great heights in the new democratic South Africa, will be remembered by many as a doyenne of South African journalism.
“‘TOXIC, embarrassing, disgraceful, appalling’. Just some of the feedback I’ve had. Thanks for using the @sign, so it’s all hit home. Now imagine getting inundated with abuse for doing your job. In my car crying. Hope you’re happy,” tweeted BBC Rugby reporter Sonja McLaughlan.
Her crime was to ask the England captain Owen Farrell a few testing questions after the defeat to Wales.
McLaughlan did her job particularly well. She didn’t pay lip service to the concept of post-match interviews, which mostly offer nothing, either in the question or in the answer.
And any good interview is based on what questions get asked.
McLaughlan was unrelenting in her line of questioning. When Farrell refused to speak about the referee because it was after the fact and the referee was uncontrollable, she asked him to speak about the lack of discipline among his players, which she pointed out was controllable.
When Farrell offered indifference that any discipline issue was a team collective, she accurately said it wasn’t because there was one primary offender. And she named him.
Shock and horror, an interviewer asking what most who watched would have wanted to ask.
Clearly, much of England’s rugby support on social media took it personally. They took it as an attack on their defeated captain, an insult to their defeated team and, mostly, they interpreted her line of questioning as an act of emasculation.
And so the pitchforks came out, the village idiots combined an I and a Q to form what they believed was an IQ and off they went, armed with the shield of anonymity, the bravado of a keyboard bully and the confidence that comes with any action having no consequence.
McLaughlan, unintentionally, further fed the mob when she interacted with them and gave them the victory they wanted - that of a battered emotional state.
The trolls danced a victory and their defence was to insist she needed to “harden the f@#k up”.
Distasteful, I know. Despicable, I know. Soul destroying, absolutely.
But even more damning than the language was the belief that McLaughlan had no right to be asking the England captain a question because rugby was a “man’s game”. And her tearful meltdown afterwards was confirmation to them that she was ill-equipped to work in this perceived man’s world.
Clearly, these imbeciles never watched the last women’s Rugby World Cup final between England and New Zealand. Their range of viewing would also not have extended to the magnificent Commonwealth Games women’s rugby 7s final between New Zealand and Australia. The skill, the intensity and the all-round quality made both matches riveting to watch.
It was rugby being played at its finest. It was as good as anything produced by men. Rugby, as a sport, is played by people.
McLaughlan, the sports interviewer, is a person. Farrell, the player, is a person.
McLaughlan had every right to ask the questions she did and Farrell had every right to answer in the way he did.
It got personal on social media afterwards because McLaughlan was a woman interviewer. It should never have, but it did and it will continue to do so because of the prejudice and ignorance that dominates social media platforms.
The trolls will also continue to thrive because of a lack of accountability and the biggest tech giants, like Twitter and Facebook, not insisting on verified handles.
The keyboard mobs are uncontrollable and the only controllable is the block button function.
If the @ sign includes you and abuses you, block the creator and, to McLaughlan, own your own social media timeline like you did your interview with Farrell.