How to meet great expectations
THE first prize for Christmas advertising must surely go to an commercial that was banned and never shown. The story of Rang-tan the baby orangutan, orphaned by the destruction of his forest home to make way for palm oil, was deemed ‘too political’ to be screened and, as a result, it went viral.
Produced by the food retailer Iceland, working with Greenpeace, it’s done wonders for the company’s Christmas visibility without the expensive disadvantage of having to buy screen time. Whether this was always the plan is a closely guarded secret, but, if getting it banned was the intention all along, then they deserve first prize even more.
The whole episode is an interesting comment on contemporary morals. There’s evidently nothing political in advertising products that harm the environment, pollute the seas and change our climate —Christmas advertising schedules are full of them.
What embarrasses is a campaign that suggests there’s anything wrong with this consumer world and certainly one that pinpoints shampoo and chocolate as products that lead to deforestation and the destruction of endangered species. The moneychangers have taken over the temple and banned any Christmas story that challenges their occupation.
That’s because Christmas is now the saviour of the retail world. These six weeks provide half its profits for one major chain and, for most, it’s make or break for the year-end results. Christmas has, therefore, become an economic necessity and all of us, however high-minded, are ambivalent about it.
Even if the Midnight Mass and the birth of the Christ Child are at the centre of the celebration, celebration is what we want it to be: the family coming together, the familiar rituals of stockings and decorations, baubles and crackers, turkey and tree—these are all an essential part of our Christmas, too.
We certainly don’t want to ban mince pies or plum pudding or castigate all the festivity as mere humbug. However, we increasingly recognise that it’s all got out of hand and that the excess of it jars uncomfortably. Could we try to find a way to reclaim Christmas, yet still enjoy those bright, expectant faces as children tear off wrapping paper or their wonderment as the Christmas-tree lights are turned on?
Perhaps the crib, with manger, shepherds and animals looking on, needs to be back at the centre of those decorations, with a gathering around it on Christmas morning as the baby is placed in the empty manger and the story is told once again as we sing Away in a Manger.
Perhaps, too, this year in particular, we can refuse the unnecessary plastic that today’s Christmas involves. Say no to the disposables, the straws and so on and look to wooden toys, degradable glitter and last year’s decorations. No plastic for stockings may be a challenge, but imagination will fill the gaps and a wooden cow or chicken can so easily introduce a child to their sponsorship of a real one for a family in a distant village.
Above all, we might remember that Mary and Joseph were decent working people who had to flee Herod’s persecution, driven by political decisions for which they bore no responsibility. In our world, in which official brutality and extreme weather events increasingly force migration, the parallels are so clear and urgent that they should drive us to think again of our duty towards the dispossessed.
That, in turn, brings new and vibrant meaning to those familiar words from that lovely carol O Little Town of Bethlehem: ‘The hopes and fears of all the years are met in Thee tonight.’
‘We don’t want to castigate festivity as humbug, but we recognise it’s got out of hand’