The complexities surrounding #wokeness, #cancelculture and the myriad other hashtags that are currently knotted through society right now are not well-served by the discourses that surround them. This is hardly surprising, because for many, these debates (if we could call them that) are framed and ultimately limited by the labels concocted to represent them. Frankly, nothing guts the nuanced complexity of an issue like a hashtag. They're symbols, ironically devoid of extant meaning, leaving them open to being stuffed full of whatever attitudes dominate the minds of the people engaging with them. Because so much thinking is required to work through the prevailing, challenging issues of our time - or even just to understand the breadth and dept of them - it's best to do so in a language that's got some room for nuance.
The world is not what it was. It's a trite statement, perennially true, but it's worth stating simply to frame the exploration of any societal issue, because the majority of societal conflict is shaped by a resistance to change and an advocacy for it. I'm not sure how you could prove this assertion, but I doubt that there's been a single change that's occurred within any society, anywhere, ever, that hasn't existed in a paradigm of conflict informed by a perception of the need for the change, or the lack of it.
What's interesting right now is the nature of the change-centric conflicts that are swirling about around us. There are some fairly totemic shifts occurring in Australia and a good deal of the world. And as much as any attempt to capture these in any kind of summative way might be hypocritical given my criticism of hashtags, I'll offer this by way of a starting point: the primary cause for societal conflict in Australia in 2020 is that people who've long been denied power and voice are attaining both, and they are using it.
This is deeply unsettling for many who've long linked their conception of the world - and their place in it - to values that are now being questioned, challenged, and in some cases, rejected outright. It's important to acknowledge this, I think. Some of the changes in societal attitude and value currently underway are far, far harder for many (often older) Australians to fathom, than they are for whom these 'new' understandings are as natural as breathing. I don't speak of all older Australians, of course, and not all who resist change are old. People conceive of the world very differently, and no amount - nor any form - of societal change will ever change this particular reality. And nor should it. Monocultures are inbred cultures, and all forms of in-breeding end badly.
And change is going to keep on coming. And more than that, it's a foregone conclusion that no one will like or desire all of it. We'd have to be identical for the truth to be otherwise. So, how are we to navigate the extremely choppy waters of change? How are we supposed to work out what to accept and what to reject?
Well, there are some guiding principles, I think, that we should collectively seek to embrace.
Firstly, as mentioned above, change is hard. It can be painful. Let's recognise that and try to be understanding when engaging with people who have different views or values than us. We are not born with values: we learn them. If they can be learned, they can be unlearned and they can change.
And whilst they are an important part of us, they do not encapsulate all of us. There is no value in reducing any individual to a singularity that ascribes to them an acceptable or unacceptable nature. As Bob Dylan recently noted (in a nod to Walt Whitman), we contain multitudes. To that end, there is little value in deciding that a person (especially oneself) is good or bad. We all do good things and bad things. Some deeds are better and worse than others, and some people do more of one kind than the other. That's plain fact. What's up for ongoing debate is how we engage with this reality.
This is the context I want to bear in mind when exploring particular components of societal change, namely, those that I've mentioned at the outset: woke culture and cancel culture. These are seriously complicated things, and anyone who thinks otherwise doesn't fully understand them.
The issue at hand is what to do about those things that an increasing percentage of society see as problematic, wrong and/or offensive, and how to engage with them when for many people, it is difficult - even outright wrong - to see those same things in that same light.
Firstly, we need to recognise that we are all - every single one of us - invested stakeholders in our society. Logically, it is difficult to argue that some of us are not entitled to speak our minds. However, that's never been true of any society, and it's certainly not true of ours.
Now, when it comes to the voicing of opinions, some people are always going to come from far educated and informed positions than others. This elevates the opinion, but not the person. It's really important to remember this. People who end up racist did not do so in a vacuum; they were likely significantly influenced by their upbringing and experiences. The same follows for the educated; it's a position of advantage, largely shaped by access to advantage, be it wealth, mentors or simply a good set of neurons.
When it comes to the opinions themselves, all societies generate for themselves a covenant of sorts; a collection of written and unwritten standards, expectations and conventions that those within that society gradually intuit, usually by trial and error. And given the specifics of the covenant are dynamic, the trial and error experience is an endless work in progress.
Jimmy Carr once noted of comedy, that there are no rules or precise definitions, because the audience are the judges of that, and they won't know until they hear it the joke. And the acceptability of jokes changes over time. Jim Jeffries was right when also speaking of comedy, that it's pretty unfair to deride a comedian for a joke that no matter how offensive it might be considered now, had them rolling in the aisles at the time.
Comedy is like love or like identity. These things are all abstract nouns. We engage with them very differently. We all exist in the circle of them, but each of us is within our own little circle, too. Sometimes we forget this, and become really rather shocked when we encounter the circles of others. Why? Because we'd forgotten that we're actually inside our own circle as well as the big circle. We get so used to bumping into others whose own little circle is similar enough to our own, we begin not to notice this overriding reality. The shock of the different can be really rather alarming, no matter what view or understanding you might hold. It was Bertrand Russell who said, "I don't want knowledge, I want certainty'. When he said it, he knew full well that the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow was the empirical truth, the correct belief. But being a seeker of truth, he said it anyway, because it needed to be said.
The thing that draws this uncomfortable 'not-quite-shared' reality to the forefront of our minds are those little zeitgeist headline snatchers that crop up from time to time. Given no issue can ever be reduced to a binary 'for' or 'against' if the complexities are considered, fixating on these single-moment controversies is both hard to resist and frustratingly problematic. This needs to be examined with examples, so let's think about Coon Cheese and the Golden Gaytime.
Firstly, I'm a white heterosexual. I'm not sure why I should think that my opinion on these things matters. I'm not affected by them, either as negatives or positives, right?
Wrong. I am a stakeholder in my society, which gives me a voice. But I ought to be careful what I do with it. Let's imagine that I'm standing with a person who tells me that they are experiencing pain. The first thing I should do is believe them and offer my help. It would be most unusual to tell them that either they're not in pain or that they ought not be feeling pain. And it would be stranger still, I'd have thought, to assert that their receiving help for their pain would inconvenience me. And I can't see why this scenario should be seen any differently if the expression of pain is being made by an individual or a group. Nor should I say nothing at all. Morally, I would feel guilty if I simply ignored the call and walked away. Frankly, to do so is illogical, because I only have value in the eyes of my society because everyone else does, too.
That's what I feel is happening when people who are not in pain get riled up by things like a mooted name-change of a foodstuff. If it hurts people, I'm not sure why it's logical to commit to defending the name over supporting the hurt person.
But it's not quite that simple, for reasons that are perhaps unexpected. The simple fact is this: those lobbying for greater equality within society are actually succeeding. This comes with its own set of problems. They are unavoidable and they are absolutely a price worth paying for the gains, but nevertheless, they exist. And they need to acknowledged and understood.
It's all to do with the fundamental nature of power.
The primary reason that Western Civilisation has been so dominant and so destructive for so long is that its power could not be countered. It had everything. As Jared Diamond noted, it had the guns, the germs, and the steel. To that, it added the law, and took over the language. That's the royal flush of power.
But over time, that power has eroded in some parts. Some see that change as akin to the crumbling of the Berlin Wall, whilst others see it as the fire ravaging the Cathedral of Notre Dame. Both are right, because both are subjective. Change is change. The key is to recognise that not everyone is viewing it from the same place, but let's set that aside and return to the nature of power.
Power is like an organism seeking to multiply. The more people have it, the more empowered they become. They become bolder. With the exception of those at the very top of any societal hegemony, they see themselves as a part of something, and they are. People speak louder, more confidently. A great many things are finally said that have needed to be said. And best of all, they're finally said loudly enough for people to hear them. Our Prime Minister is just discovering this, and he's struggling to know what to do. Given he's the Prime Minister, his words and deeds matter more than most. Comes with the job. He's going to have to make a choice. He cannot sit on the fence, because there isn't one.
Those who have power, to some extent, can always be said to be abusing it, either because someone within its ranks will do just that, or someone will feel that they are. Abuses of power take many forms, including ones that are, in many ways, far closer to be being harmless rather than harmful. In fact, sometimes it's really quite hard to tell if power is being used in a way that's not only not harmful, but actually helpful, even it's perceived by one, some or many as the opposite.
It is difficult to know when an emboldened voice becomes an unreasoned shout, for example. What is well known is that any people with power are always within spitting distance of becoming a mob, and that's when power's ability to give voice to the best of us becomes subsumed by its power to spit out the very worst. This is true no matter where you are on any ideological spectrum, because that's the fundamental nature of power. This is not to say that the positions on the spectrum are equal. Only a fool would equate a campaigner for equal rights with the deeds of a Neo-Nazi. But power doesn't care about this. It plays entirely by its own set of rules.
For me (but definitely not all), changing the name of Coon Cheese was a straightforward thing. Coon was not the original name of the maker of the cheese: it was Kuhn. Notably, the family changed their own name because it was thought too Germanic at a time when that was not ideal. Nor is the cheese still owned by the Coon family or company: it is owned by Saputo. And the word 'coon' has never been anything other than offensive. It's a word that's been repugnantly thrust onto people of colour. They do not identify with it. It's a warranted change for the many reasons that've put forward by those calling for it, and in my mind, the logic is sound.
Golden Gaytime is a bit trickier. 'Gay' is a word with lot of meaning attached to it. It seems to date to the early twentieth century as a word synonymous with (largely male) homosexuality, and was recommended as an acceptable/desirable term for these people by many LGBT groups the around the world in the late 20th century. So, it's got quite a different history to a word like 'Coon'. Now, the Golden Gaytime was first released in Australia in 1959, and the name drew upon the original definition of gay as happy and joyous. No doubt this was a good deal of the appeal of the word when it came to the self-representation of homosexual people. After all, who could possibly not want to self-identify as happy and joyous?
So, is the term offensive? The answer is yes, it is offensive to some people. This cannot be denied, and it is absolutely pointless to tell people that they are wrong to be offended. Others - gay and straight alike - are comfortable with the name, and some are offended, rather ironically, that the name could be considered offensive at all. So, we find ourselves in a quandary.
But hardly a unique one. As I said at the outset, differences and divergences of opinion are not new, and new ones will keep on coming. There needs to be ways forward - in this situation and others - and they need to be productive, respectful and empathetic. If this were to be looked at objectively, it would focus on the person who has first voiced a concern. It's never appropriate to attack that person, even if the concern they've voiced feels offensive to us. Yes, we could express an attitude in regard to their view, but attacking the person is reductive and counter-productive. Attacking someone for voicing discomfort about the name of an ice-cream is ludicrous, and questioning their motive - reducing them and their view to some kind of culture-war overreach - is even more so. That's the very definition of playing the man and not the ball. It's definitely posssible that the expressed view is a step too far of some kind, but that will emerge naturally enough, and soon enough, due to the lack of support from the peoples most likely to share the opinion. If they don't, the voice silences itself.
The issues at hand in this case are simple enough: freedom of expression, tradition and history, homophobic suggestion, and censorship. But their intersections are fraught with considerations that quite rapidly eschew logic in favour of emotion. None of these things, taken to their nth degree - are desirable. The answer - if it can be called such a thing - is an intersection of compromise. What that compromise is, and who makes it, is as uncertain in this case as it is in all others.
To that end, for me personally, the name of a confectionary is a pretty low concern at the best of times. And frankly, I'm finding it difficult to work out if the name ought to be considered offensive and thereby changed, even though I'm aware for that many, this has already been decided, with some in favour and some against. Really, the only logical recourse left is to let Australia's gay communities strive to reach some kind of consensus, and support whatever conclusion is reached. To suggest otherwise is to argue that I don't support change because I like my world the way that it is, and that this is more important than anything or anyone else. Because I don't believe that statement, it's not the position I am taking.
In this case, I think the issue will flame out, because I don't think the desire for change will be sufficiently strong to overpower the inertia of the status quo. Irritatingly, many of those in a conservative mindset will take umbrage in a very different way, and rather like a rare point of agreement between OneNation and the Greens, two groups will arrive at the same place having taken very different paths to get there, and for different reasons.
The problem with issues like the Golden Gaytime debate is twofold: they detract from causes and desired changes that many can reasonably argue are more fundamentally required, and because they become symbols of progressive overreach that gift a target to adherents to entrenched societal attitudes. If you've ever seen Yes, Minister, you'll know that Jim Hacker attained the Prime Ministership by conflating British Identity into an ideological war with the EU over the naming rights of the sausage. We seem to be in similar territory. The name of an ice-cream has somehow become the totemic prize in a culture war? Really? Yes. Why? Because some - mostly opponents of change - desire to shift the focus of debate onto points likely to inflame the sensibilities of those who might otherwise have remained neutral, or at the very least, silent. And let's never forget the desire within the media to grab a headline - any headline - at every opportunity.
And yet, when we step back, it's really just a case of someone expressing an opinion about something makes them uncomfortable. Surely the goal ought to be to listen respectfully, rather than conflate the subject of their opinion into being some kind prized ground in cultural trench warfare. But we're unable to do this, not specifically because of an inability to rationalise or empathise, but because of the fact that 'social' media moves at the pace of wildfire, but with the precision, ironically, of chinese whispers. (I suspect that's a questionable term these days, but I'm not aware of the preferred alternative. Apologies for any offence caused.) The moment something vaguely controversial is suggested, it sweeps around the nation, devoid of its context and humanity. People don't respond to what's been said, but instead respond to what they think it represents, which doesn't deepen the understanding of it at all, but rather, removes all possibly of nuanced consideration, and replacing it with a binary vote of approval or disapproval. Suddenly, the sense that something is happening out beyond our controls feels back in our control because we can tweet about it, or express or support/disgust on social media. We get to respond. Or more accurately, react. The latter invariably overpowers the former.
The worst thing about people gaining power is that power doesn't come with an owner's manual. All people should have access to a voice, and all should feel that within certain limits, they are permitted to use it. I say particular limits, because societies are defined by their broadly accepted values, or by the commonest of ground. Some views - Covid misinformation, for example - are factually wrong and provably harmful. The same can be said of holocaust denial or the advocacy of violence in any form. Traditional, cultural or institutional beliefs are not necessarily acceptable in a changing world, either. This is quite the problem for many who identity with views that are incompatible with same-sex marriage. The argument that these views can be freely voiced (on the grounds of religious freedom) is problematic, in that they cannot be voiced without infringing on the accepted, legal rights and status of other people. If someone wanted to actively campaign against miscegenation in Australia in 2020, they would rightly not be tolerated, despite the Biblical Old Testament forbidding Jews to marry outside the covenant people and, particularly, to marry the inhabitants of Canaan. The same problem is increasingly being faced by opponents of same-sex marriage. The prevailing wind has changed. And that's pretty much that. But trying to tell someone that a core belief of theirs is now a minority view for the rest of society is extremely difficult, and harder still to convince them to accept it. Necessary, but difficult.
And we need to recognise that people do change. A person who once expressed racist views might eventually renounce them. If we do not embrace this, if we tie them to the mast of their prior failings, we invalidate everything they've done. Some see no virtue in people shedding racist views or understandings, because they feel that to do so would reward people simply for not being racist. This fails to acknowledge the circumstances in which racism first imprints on individuals, and the degree of personal growth and pride-swallowing necessary for such changes to occur. It's why I was so disappointed when I saw a young woman resign from a job as editor of Teen Vogue because of tweets she'd made - and apologised for - ten years previously. I struggle to see the pursuit of this woman's career as little more than revenge. I'm not sure it's any different to seeing a person who spent time in prison, as a criminal for the rest of their lives.
It's worth remembering that there isn't a single opinion that can be formed that cannot be subverted and weaponised by zealotry. This is the fear I have about the rising vehemence of what's been labelled cancel culture. Very quickly, calls for necessary change can become something else. Great care is needed to protect the place in which people of different beliefs, attitudes, experiences and values can still dialogue in good faith.
We cannot make a crusade out every single thing that offends us. We can seek to expunge our society from a good deal of it, but getting rid of all is impossible, if for no other reason that offense is the flipside of affirm, and you don't get one without the other. They are as co-dependent as love and hate, and life and death. Plus, we'll never agree on what constitutes offense, so from time to time, we're just going to have to put up with some of it, just like everyone else.
So, where does that leave us? Hopefully approaching (rather than judging) each situation on its merits, in deference to those who feel most aggrieved. Maintaining dialogue with those whose views differ from ours, maintaining our dignity even when it feels affronted by others, and especially when there seems to be a committed desire to deride our views and in the worst cases, who we are. When people fling mud, the minute we bend down to pick it up and throw it back, the chance for change is lost. Mud doesn't change anything. It just makes people dirty.
Complex stuff. No easy answers. But there are pathways that exist; pathways shaped by good intentions, empathy and a very high degree of value being placed on the basic sanctity of human dignity. If that's the guiding principle, we'll get things right more often than we'll get things wrong. But we'll still get them wrong. I don't think of myself as a racist or a sexist person, but I know I've done and said racist and sexist things. And I'm fairly certain, without intending to, I'll do so again. When people tell me this, I hope I'll have the wherewithal to listen. Because telling me I've said something racist or sexist is not the same as telling me that I am these things. If I tell a student that they've made a mistake in their essay, they'd have rather missed my point if they respond with an indignant "I'm not a mistake!".
The same needs to follow when we hear people say sexist and racist things. Those thing are never ok, but we shouldn't rush to label people on the basis of one comment. If there's a pattern, then that's different. There's clearly a prevailing attitude. But the labelling; what does it achieve other than compel that person - out of defensive egoism - into hunkering down with like-minded, equally prejudiced individuals? That's how hate-groups start. Push people into a corner, and you've grouped them together. That's not only unhelpful, but it’s also potentially dangerous.
An example of this for me is my experience of being Catholic. I've been a Catholic all my life, just like I've been an Australian all my life. In both cases, there are parts I love, parts I've grown to accept, and parts I loathe. But it's what I am. I could leave my religion and my country, but I choose not to. Why? Because I have a right and a desire to be both.
I hear offensive things said about Catholics all the time, alongside many funny comments and insightful criticisms. Sometimes, I question the critical comments and engage productively with those who've said them, but usually I let the cheap shots slide. I could do without hearing them, but I do not want a world in which it is forbidden to criticise a religion. I find that prospect deeply concerning, because the definitions of religion can potentially encompass a great many beliefs, many of which I'd find it virtually unconscionable not to question. Religions, in my opinion, cannot be granted an exception to violate the rule of law, if no other reason than any attempt to create such a scenario will inevitably fail. We must be able to cohere under one common law, and that must be our legal system, because we have no hope of ever agreeing on anything else.
Sticking with religion for a just a moment longer, I find it interesting how often the folk who say some pretty unpleasant stuff about Catholicism are those who identify as atheists. The reason I find this noteworthy is that I've not heard an avowed atheist express contempt or derision at the spiritual beliefs of First Australians, or suggest that their sacred sites are a load of bollocks. I've wondered why this is, and the answer is clear: one is punching up, and the other is punching down.
Right now, First Australians are still in a profoundly disadvantageous position in society, in respect to every societal parameter imaginable. The growing awareness of this - and the commitment from many to change it - renders many people - indigenous and non-indigenous alike - profoundly sensitive to criticisms of those who are already disenfranchised, disempowered and undervalued.
The Catholic Church is none these things. In fact, there's a pretty good case to make that when it comes to power, it's got much more than a growing number of people want it to have. So, it's seen as fair game. Of course, that dehumanises the individuals within Catholicism, but I'm not here to defend the practice, only to explain it. No one individual is the Church. Not even the Pope.
At some point, we're going to find ourselves without any punching left to do that doesn't involve punching horizontally. That's when we really need to take stock at who and what we've become. Do we want to remain tribalised and allow the things that have given us voice and identity to become the last impediment to true community? I hope not. I hope we will we look deep within ourselves, and the eyes of others, and finally come to terms with who we collectively are. A massive, massive family, that will bicker and worry and fight and fret, but in the end, cohere around an acknowledgement of our shared humanity and simply strive, one and all, to better the way things are.
In the end, we need to seek wisdom through compassion, and understanding through empathy. All other paths are folly. And most of all, we need to seek to forgive. It is the only true path to shared happiness. If that sounds fanciful, I assure you, it is. But it's still the only way.
Onwards we go.