I read the Wednesday's Inside Cover with a degree of amusement. (See the picture.)
This, I thought to myself, is going to provoke some interesting reactions. And I was right, though to be fair, it wasn't a prediction that required much in the way of insight. Some were amused, some were incensed, most were bewildered. And of course, many didn't care at all.
As an article, it's a poor excuse for journalism. But of course, it's not meant to be journalism. It's just a paper-and-ink incarnation of clickbait puffery. It's arrogant, ill-informed, and more than a little hypocritical. (I'll get to that a bit later.) So really, it ought to be forgotten about as soon as it's read. Or more to the point, not read at all. One who reads The West's 'Inside Cover' (or any of The West, really) ought to know in advance that they're in for a pretty shallow time.
But we tend not to do that. And by 'that', I actually mean two things. The first 'that' is that's it's hard to immediately dismiss what we read, especially when it's directed at ourselves. Our insecurities tend not to let us do that. Praise goes to our heads, and criticism to our hearts. This is true for any comment, but newspaper articles and the like go further, because they have a veneer of authority to them. They're on record. In pixel or on paper, they're out in the public domain. They're hard to for us to dismiss, because we don't know what others are doing with them. It's still our choice not to care, but it's important to acknowledge that it isn't always easy.
And the other 'that' is the challenge presented when trying to choose to avoid rubbishy stuff like 'Inside Cover'. It's just gossipy trash. Snide comments written about people in order to get a self-righteous, condescending snicker out of other people. People quite like the chance to laugh at other people. It's why videos of people falling down, or walking into shopping centre ponds whilst on their phones collect millions of views on YouTube. Deep down, from time to time, most of us leave our brains in a pretty puerile gear. So, it's probably fair enough that we all cop a reminder from time to time that it isn't a very nice thing to do.
Of course, there are some other aspects of the 'article' that are worthy of a bit of reflection. The gist of what is said - the point that most rankles the rankled - is the accusation of elitism, and the suggest that as an institution, we specialise in White Privilege. If, for the moment, we elect to take the article's suggestions seriously, some important insights and understandings can emerge.
Firstly, I think it's important to establish the difference between privilege (let's leave the white bit out for now) and elitism. Privilege is broadly understood to refer to a position of social advantage. It's hard to be specific about what does and does not constitute privilege, because society is complex, and there are always a number of mitigating factors to consider. So, rather than try to ascertain a clear-cut understanding of privilege, it's possibly easier to look at the effects of its absence.
Take wealth. A couple with three kids and a sizeable mortgage probably don't feel privileged. And compared to someone who owns a few houses, a few porches and a yacht, they aren't. But compared to many people in Australia, and many more people across the planet, the ability to live in a house, raise three children and (one-day) own that house is an impossible dream. Many people struggle to meet much more basic ends. People all around the world regularly die of starvation. In horrific numbers. From this perspective, the suburban 'battler' seems incredibly fortunate. If it is a privilege to live our lives free of the profoundly debilitating effects of extreme poverty, then yes, we, the Aquinas community, are all privileged people. Personally, I don't feel resentment towards anyone who chooses to point that out to me. On the contrary, I'm reminded to be thankful.
Privilege can also be considered in terms of what is earned (a very broad term) relative to the position one is given as a starting point. If you are born into abject poverty, relative to one who is not, your position is disadvantageous. To such a person, it's possible a fancy car could provoke feelings of resentment. To be honest, I think that's understandable, though it hardly makes the owning of such a car wrong, or something shameful. If we are fortunate enough to have wealth at our disposal, it isn't a sin to use it. Mind you, it is certainly worth considering the impact of that wealth on the lives of other people. If one becomes wealthy by depriving others, then the moral validity decreases substantially.
If one takes one's position of privilege for granted, then the concept of entitlement comes into play. And if, as a result, we begin to see ourselves as better than others - either by right, or work ethic, or possessions or achievements, we are at serious risk of becoming elitist. We are all contextual beings; we see things and think about them in terms of what has been naturalised for us. We can quickly become annoyed at the price servicing a car, rather than express gratitude that we own two of them, or quickly annoyed at how quickly our children grow out of shoes, rather than express gratitude that we have the means to re-shod them. Let's remember: a year's worth of Newstart Allowance would barely cover half of one year's tuition for a day student at Aquinas.
It's a terribly presumptuous error, and a callous one, to assume people who need financial aid are lazy or that they feel entitled to 'bludge' off the state. One of the hardest things to be in our society is homeless. You have to struggle, every moment of every day, to survive. Though there is undoubtedly a connection between hard work and success, it isn't anything close to a direction correlation. To think otherwise is to conflate achievement and ignore the role played by opportunity. Such flawed, prejudicial thinking bites hard at the most vulnerable.
If we further examine the relationship between rights and privileges, consider the following. We expect to be treated equitably. It's perfectly reasonable to expect basic respect to be directed our way. But if we expect to be able to say everything we think, because we have a right to free speech, for example (which we do not, as it happens), then we are possibly blurring the line between the privilege of free speech and the accompanying responsibility to use it wisely. To think only of the former and not the latter is to confuse a privilege for an entitlement.
We are lucky to live in a society where, in broad terms, there is ample freedom of speech. It is not unlimited; we have defamation and hate speech laws for very good reason, and the task of defining what is and isn't acceptable is both challenging and ongoing. These freedoms and safeguards are not the in place for many who live in many other countries. It's unwise to mistake the privilege we enjoy for an entitlement, even if we believe (quite reasonably) that all people should be equally able to share their views and thoughts.
After all, the ability to speak is central in securing one's place in the world, furthering that place, and contributing to the steady evolution of one's society. And the price of free speech is that it extends to us all. We're not going to like everything that others are going to choose to say.
Building from the notion of speech - in terms of how one might use it - it is foolish to make any generalisations about the wealth (or the poverty, for that matter) of any group of people. We can see, with the article above, just how flawed such reductive assertions can be. Nevertheless, we can learn a good deal about ourselves, our society and our media if we reflect on - rather than react to - articles such as these. And it's far better to delve deeply than retaliate defensively, even if the latter can feel appropriate or satisfying. Yes, we could dwell on the PSA-educated writer's hypocrisy, or the fact that his paper is owned by a man who owns a super-yacht worth $15 million dollars. But calling 'hypocrisy' is a cheap retort in response to a cheap shot, because almost every point made by everybody is hypocritical to some extent. It's a means of evasion, which achieves very little of value.
Why do some of us bristle at being labelled privileged? Well, because it can be perceived as something about which we ought to feel guilty. Sometimes, no doubt, it is thrown as a barb designed to provoke that very response. But in reality, it need not. I know I am privileged. I try hard not to take it for granted. I try to be responsible with it, and use it to the advantage of others as well as myself. If I didn't perhaps I should feel a little guilty. But that's up to me. It's an individual decision for me, as it is for all. I am financially independent in a consumerist world. I am male, in a patriarchal one, and I am white, in a Eurocentric one. I don't see why an acknowledgement of this should bother me. After all, it's not like my life is easy; it isn't. But none of the three things I've just mentioned are making it (my life) any harder. If I were not privileged in these areas, that would likely not be so.
No one likes to feel adversely labelled. Labels are good for jars of homemade pickles, but largely counterproductive in other areas. Even positive labels can be problematic, bringing with them unreasonable assumptions of ability or expectations of success, which is an unfair way to burden anyone. And part of the problem is that labels, by stealth, compel us to see things in a binary way. If someone labels us as privileged or elitist, we feel obliged to share in the intention of their assertion (their definition of the concepts, not ours), and either agree or disagree, with no room for anything in between. As such, we've allowed the flawed nature of their assertion to goad us into a flawed response in return. This is especially so when the issue at hand is even more incendiary than one like privilege. This also the problem with labels like Left Wing and Right Wing: they block an ability to have a discussion about an idea on its merits, in regards to its particulars. Such militant tribalism is fine for football teams, but worse than useless when it comes to exploring (let alone addressing) societal concerns.
Consider the highly thorny issue of racism. The majority of the human race bristles at an accusation of racism, as it is overwhelmingly considered an immoral and unjustifiable way to be. And yet, racism persists. It can't all be the work of card-carrying Klan members, so perhaps, from time to time, we are all a bit racist. Sometimes. The notion of racism being a continuously sliding scale, with our position on it never truly fixed, is an illuminating one. I try very hard not to be racist, but I am neither arrogant nor confident enough to assert that I never am. I still stereotype. (It's very hard to navigate the world without doing so to some extent.) I still make assumptions. (Without them, we cannot predict or plan.) And definitions keep changing and paradigms keep shifting.
This can be confusing and frustrating, but that's the nature of a dynamic society, and dynamic societies are the only ones that survive. So, if someone told me I was being racist, I might not like it, and I might not agree, but I'd be foolish not to reflect on the assertion at all, no matter its origin.
And incidentally, the only genuine issue I have with the Inside Cover article actually pertains to the issue of racism. Their point about White Privilege is offensive, because whether it meant to or not, it implies that those who come to Aquinas are exclusively white, and that our purpose is to perpetuate the white privilege. Imbedded in here is the implicit suggestion that only whites can afford to come here. Or worse, deserve to. This, to me, is genuinely offensive.
Setting that aside, we are no worse off for having the opportunity to give this issues of privilege and elitism some consideration and self-reflection. We know as a community, that we strive to live meaningful lives, and to valorise Gospel teachings through word and deed. We could all do better. True humility (the kind we've been accused of not practising) allows us to see our shortcomings, and continue to strive each and every day to do better. Wealth need not be an enemy of this. One need only look at the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation to see this. But wealth can be a pitfall; a contributor to a perceived divide between self and others. It is an issue worthy of our moral vigilance.
It might be somewhat unexpected to arrive at a position that can see the above article as a positive, but here we are. The fact that the intention of the article can be so transformed, ironically, is a marker of privilege. If my (or our) position were not so advantageous, perhaps such criticism could do actual harm. Imagine the furore if this article had targeted a low-socioeconomic school for failing to be sufficiently aspirational.
Now that would be something to get angry about. And I'd like to think we, at Aquinas, would stand with the angry.
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