Penguins Set Back March of Gay Rights

Homophobes often try to frame homosexuality as an immoral choice that flouts the laws of nature, while most gays respond that, surely as nature made them, nature made them gay. To bolster the latter argument, homosexuals and gay rights activists have sometimes pointed to the same-sex action that takes place elsewhere in the animal kingdom.


But now, the gay rights movement has a new and potentially dangerous enemy: penguins. And what hurts most of all is that this enemy is a traitor to the cause.


The evidence is here, in a story about two male penguins from the San Francisco Zoo whose six-year relationship recently ended when one of them decided to jump into the nest of a widowed female. Defenders of "traditional family values" might suggest that Harry philandered because he realized that, six years ago, he'd made a bad choice that steered him away from his "natural" heterosexuality. No doubt they'd also blame that choice on an evil "homosexual agenda," the goal of which is presumably to turn everyone gay, animals included. At least in San Francisco.


Either way, the anti-gay army now has a new poster-penguin. Me, I think the whole affair demonstrates that sexuality can be a fluid thing, no matter what species is involved. As for poor cuckolded Pepper, I just hope he recovers from the shock. It's okay, Pepper. You're worth more than cheatin' Harry and homewrecker Linda combined.


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'Til Death

Fascinating case emanating from Europe in the past couple of days about an elderly and eminent British couple who chose to commit simultaneous suicide with the help of a Swiss clinic. Conductor Sir Edward Downes and his wife Joan died hand-in-hand last week after knocking back a lethal drug cocktail, a move that's as sure to make ethicists wring their hands as it is to make romantics swoon.

Assisted suicide is one of those issues that's much easier to argue about in the abstract than in the specific. It's understandable that many people would defend this decision by two apparently rational adults, a decision that was supported by their children. After all, what benefit would there be to charging the children, already grieving, with a criminal offense for helping the Downeses meet their chosen fate? 

Yet it's also easy to understand why the couple's death would make people squirm. Joan Downes was reportedly in the final stages of terminal cancer, but aside from being described by his kids as "blind and nearly deaf," Edward Downes was only on his deathbed because he chose to be. Thus, the usual slippery-slope arguments are activated. What, for example, is the standard a person must meet in order to receive assistance in ending one's own life? Should people have access to assisted suicide because they're afraid to grieve for a loved one? Is this option available only for the elderly? If the option was available, how many people would use it to escape what might be temporary physical and mental pain.

I can't fault the Downeses for what they did. But I'm not sure I'm comfortable with assisted suicide if the rationale behind it is to achieve some romantic ideal or avoid grief. Coming to terms with death is a sad but necessary part of life. Even at 85, Edward Downes might very well have gained wisdom and character from the process of mourning his wife. Or it may have tortured him. 

That's the thing about death. Once it happens, all those questions go forever unanswered. My take is that public policy concerning assisted suicide should err on the side of exploring the possibilities and answering those questions.

http://arrowsplitter.blogspot.com

The Problem With Intervention

Yesterday I wrote about how it's difficult to know if, when and how to respond to situations where someone says something inappropriate in public. I raised two cases from the past week in which I was an eye and ear witness to shocking verbal encounters, one of them involving a profane mother (whom I didn't respond to or report to any authority) and one involving - or so I thought - a profane and racist bus driver (whom I did report to the Toronto Transit Commission). I talked about how I had some misgivings about both my passive and active responses in these two situations.

Well, it turns out that whatever small feeling of nobility I had about reporting the case of the racist bus driver was short-lived. My girlfriend, who was with me on the bus, later explained that it was a passenger, not the driver, who made the nasty comments to an elderly Asian lady sitting across from him. Just now I called the TTC back and explained the error, but still, having mistakenly blown the whistle on the innocent driver, I now feel at least as sick as I did yesterday while the incident was actually happening. I can only hope he hasn't already been contacted about it.

So is it better to hear and see no evil, allowing hateful comments in public spaces to go unchallenged? After this whole affair, I know it's going to be more difficult for me personally to stand up, for fear that I'm somehow mistaken. But I hope that's not the case. 

http://arrowsplitter.blogspot.com

What's My Business, and How Should I Mind It?

It's been said before, by more articulate and authoritative voices than I, that the spread of evil owes less to the extremist zealotry of the few than it does to the listless apathy of the many. For example, this theory would suggest that the rise of the Nazis in Germany wasn't so much a result of Hitler's charisma or strong-arm tactics as it was the result of a general population that shrugged its collective shoulders as he consolidated power. The intimate personal lesson we're supposed to draw is that, when we ignore or dismiss hate and violence, we're not much better than those who commit it.

But two recent situations from my own life have illustrated, to me at least, why this moral rule that makes perfect sense in the abstract is extraordinarily difficult to abide by in specific, real-life cases. In one of these instances, I decided to respond in some fashion. In the other, I didn't. But was I right in either case?

Case #1: 

Last week while doing laundry, I witnessed a parenting display that twisted my stomach into knots. While doing her laundry, a relatively young mother was occasionally interrupted by one or both of her young children (both aged five or under, I'd guess), who were understandably bored but were quite well-behaved considering their dull surroundings. Not well-behaved enough for this mom, though. After crabbily urging her kids to leave her alone a few times, the woman snapped, berating one of the little ones with the words, "For fuck's sake, why don't you go sit down."

Swearing in the presence of children is a pet peeve of mine. I hate when people do it, in part because I feel bad for the parents who are put in the uncomfortable situation of having to either pretend it didn't happen, raise an embarrassing scene or explain to their kids what the bad words mean. But in this case it was the mother who made me feel uncomfortable. It occurred to me that if this was how she treated her children when they were all in public, she may well be even more abusive, or even violent, in the privacy of their home. I wondered if I should say something to her, report her to some authority (Children's Aid? The cops?) or simply shake my head and ignore her. I chose the last. But my stomach is still in knots about it. 

Case #2

This case, which happened this morning, was even more alarming. As my bus was about to leave from the stop where I boarded, an elderly Asian woman shuffled up to the door and started banging on it, hoping the bus driver would stop. He did, but not before bellowing "Fuck off. Get the next one." The woman was still outside when he said this, so she couldn't hear it, but a busload of bystanders certainly did. And then it got worse. When the woman came aboard, the driver turned around and quite loudly asked her if she was in a rush because she was "on her way to a big rice sale or something." My girlfriend and I were both on the bus at the time, and our jaws hit the floor so hard they nearly activated the doors-open system.

In this case, however, I called the Toronto Transit Commission and registered a complaint about the driver, explaining exactly what had happened. Of course, I don't know whether anything will end up happening to him. And I'm not sure what exactly I would want to happen to him. Should he be fired (as he certainly would be from pretty much any other job for that kind of conduct), or should he simply be scolded? Will his own racial identity - he was a young black man - have any bearing in terms of how his behaviour is judged and punished? Did it have any impact on my own reaction?

In one case, I chose silence. In the other, I chose action. Quite honestly, I can't say that either was terribly satisfying. I still don't know how to respond in situations where strangers say hateful things to other strangers. I still don't know when and to what degree I have a moral obligation to intervene - and when I should mind my own business. I'm still skeptical about whether I can make a difference.

I do know that it's depressing to hear such hatefulness expressed so openly. I do know that it makes me and most bystanders incredibly uncomfortable. But if it's true that apathy is the ally of evil, then we have a duty to respond. And if we can't do it when the hate is out in the open, what hope do we have of extinguishing the hate that burbles, unspoken and bitter, under the floorboards of society?

www.arrowsplitter.blogspot.com

Wrongs and Rights

I've finally gotten around to reading Ezra Levant's book Shakedown, which aims to expose Canada's federal and provincial Human Rights Commissions as bloated, self-interested bureaucracies that have drifted a long way from their noble beginnings. I'm only halfway through, but so far Levant's done a good job illuminating both the problems themselves - most notably the idea that the HRCs have a vested interest in sowing societal disharmony - and the reasons why Canadians should be upset about them. I expect the rest of the book to further raise my hackles, if for no other reason than, as I've written before, finding oneself in agreement with Ezra Levant on anything is disconcerting.

I'm already guilty of bestowing too much verbiage on him, but I can't help wondering what Levant makes of the case of Frank Ricci, a firefighter in New Haven, Connecticut who claimed reverse-discrimination when he was passed over for a departmental promotion. On the surface, Ricci made for a sympathetic plaintiff - despite suffering from dyslexia, he studied hard for a written test that was supposed to carry the most weight in the evaluations for promotions and achieved one of the top scores. However, almost no visible-minority candidates scored high enough on the test to receive a promotion, a fact that resulted in the New Haven government, nervous about a politically-correct backlash, changing the promotion criteria after the fact. Ricci was denied his promotion and learned first-hand the terrible injustices that one faces when one is white and male in North American society. 

I kid, of course, but it's true that Ricci was a sympathetic figure. It did in fact seem that his whiteness cost him a promotion that he'd earned, and what's more, the achievement was actually snatched away from him after he'd achieved it. His story was the kind that would make even the most ardent (white) affirmative-action supporter pause. It certainly made an impression on the U.S. Supreme Court (seven white males, one white female, one black male), which ruled in Ricci's favour a couple of weeks ago in a decision that may have grave implications on civil rights law in America.

In Shakedown, Levant makes a convincing case that Canada's HRCs have created an industry wherein both Commission employees and thin-skinned or disingenuous citizens make their living through serial complaining. Most of these complaints, he argues, have little to do with what most people would think of as human rights. In this environment, Ricci would be right at home - it turns out that this blue-collar everyman has no problem suing his way up the employment ladder. What once seemed sympathetic now seems opportunistic. Would Levant champion Ricci as a man of the people who dared to challenge politically correct orthodoxy? Or would he denounce him as a cynical manipulator of a skittish legal system? 

The same question applies to lefties, considering how Ricci and some of the HRC complainants in Canada have ju-jitsued well-intentioned discrimination laws for their own selfish ends. This is all part of a larger debate, one that Levant flicks at in his book when he paints Canada as a country where intolerance is largely a thing of the past. I don't think that's true. But it's possible that affirmative action and HRCs, as they're currently constituted, could be outdated and in need of reform. Otherwise, the future of human rights belongs to professional complainers like Ricci. 

Don't You Forget About John Hughes

Journalistic ethics pretty much preclude shilling for friends, and that's as it should be. But while I try to observe a journalistic code of conduct on this blog, the fact is that it's a blog. My blog. And dammit, when my friends do something cool and legitimately shill-worthy, I'm gonna shill for it.

Which is why I'm urging anyone who comes across this post to visit this blog, recently started by the producers of Don't You Forget About Me, a documentary about director John Hughes, the influence of his teen films and his reclusive life since dropping out of Hollywood almost two decades ago. I'm fortunate enough to know Kari Hollend, one of the producers of the movie and a name I look forward to dropping for years to come as her career builds.

I've seen the movie and it's a blast. Structured around the producers' road trip to Hughes' house in an attempt to get the writer-director to participate, DYFAM includes interviews of cast and crew from classic 80s teen films like Ferris Bueller's Day Off, The Breakfast Club and Sixteen Candles. From these sources, the viewer gets funny and fascinating insight into the making of these movies and the mind of Hughes. Meanwhile, interviews of subjects like film critic Roger Ebert, director Kevin Smith and current-day high school students prove one of the filmmakers' main points - that Hughes managed to capture some fundamental essence of teenagerdom that allowed his movies to transcend their dated 80s window-dressing.

Just as DYFAM is a window into the John Hughes universe, the filmmakers' blog is a window into the process of making the documentary. On that level, it's an interesting site to visit even if you're not a Hughes junkie. And if you are, the filmmakers reward you with extra interview footage that didn't make the final cut of the movie. That final cut will soon be available for purchase through the blog website, but you should go there now to get a little taste. 

As for me, I'm not as much of a Hughes acolyte as my friend and her fellow documentarians - I haven't even seen Sixteen Candles or Pretty in Pink, and for my money nothing in the teen flick genre ever topped Fast Times at Ridgemont High - but Ferris and Breakfast Club alone constitute a Hall-of-Fame resume.

Bruno and the Perils of Interpretation

The impending release of Sacha Baron Cohen's film Bruno, which follows in the semi-scripted, quasi-documentary footsteps of the wildly successful Borat, re-ignites an old debate about activism and popular culture. Like his goofy, lovable and - oh yeah - scathingly anti-Semitic Borat character, Cohen's Bruno is designed to dredge up the worst bigoted feelings from the average Joes and Jills he encounters and play them for laughs. In Bruno's case, the title character is a homosexual fashion expert from Austria whose cartoonish flamboyance unearths the vile undercurrent of homophobia in certain segments of society. 

To expose and then ridicule prejudice is a noble goal, and one could argue that there's almost no better way to eradicate it. Laws are important, obviously, but laws alone don't change minds. And although the legalization of gay marriage is sure to result, over time, in greater acceptance for homosexuals, releasing a Hollywood blockbuster that makes fun of the haters is a more immediately satisfying way to advance the cause.

Of course, one could also argue that Bruno doesn't so much make fun of homophobes as provide them with another target, a character who embodies all they think they know and love to hate about gays. I haven't seen the movie yet, but from what I've read it could very well be possible to see Bruno and come away not with the notion that hatred of homosexuals is stupid, but rather that homosexuals are indeed worthy objects of derision. Will people laugh with Cohen, or at Bruno? These two reviews, one positive and one somewhat negative, outline the parameters of the debate.

The reality is probably that people will probably laugh both with and at Bruno. Which is unfortunate, in the sense that a film with a very pointed message will be viewed by millions of people who will take away the exact opposite of that message. But that's the deal with pop culture. Kurt Cobain, for example, changed the entire music scene with music and public statements denigrating bigoted meatheads, but no doubt a huge portion of the audience that made him rich were bigoted meatheads of the highest order, responding to the volume of Cobain's screams but ignoring their content. 

As an artist, one ceases to own something the moment they put it out to the public. So in the end, it matters very little what Cohen's intent is with the Bruno character (it says here that, since he's a comedian and not an activist, he's probably happy to have it both ways - to play shamelessly and comically into gay stereotypes while at the same time making fun of those who hate and stereotype). It only matters what the audience does with it. 

Moreover, Cohen can't be held responsible for those who misinterpret the film. To force artists to censor themselves based on the potential reactions of society's most ignorant members would mean the end of any truly provocative art. And we deserve better than to be held hostage by stupidity.

Newsunworthy

It's hardly news that the news media can be quite pitiful in terms of story selection, foregrounding titillating non-news ahead of actual, important developments. Any written complaint about this deserves to be filed in the "tell me something I don't know" bin. Still, some days are more ridiculous than others.

Today, for example. There are of course the numerous recaps of Michael Jackson's funeral, which news organizations broadcast live yesterday as though Jackson was a head-of-state. And on the domestic front, all three newspapers have seen fit to weigh in on the "controversy" about whether Prime Minister Stephen Harper ate the communion wafer he was offered at the funeral of former Governor-General Romeo Leblanc or pocketed it (Harper's a Protestant but Leblanc, the funeral and the communion ceremony are all Catholic - gives new meaning to the notion of being damned if you do, damned if you don't).

The Toronto Star's Wafergate headline seems like it was ripped from the web pages of The Onion. Thankfully, on slow news days we can look to The Onion itself for amusement. This is one of their best of all time, I dare say. 

Who needs news when you can read about things you wish were news.

A Paler Palin

Only a year ago, hardly anyone outside of Alaska had even heard the name Sarah Palin. After her surprise resignation as Alaska's governor a few days ago, it's possible (although not probable) that a year from now we'll have almost forgotten her. But if Palin does end up receding from public life - and doesn't, as has been speculated, shift her focus full-time to national politics and a possible 2012 presidential run - at least we'll be able to cherish our memories of one of the brightest, if shortest-lived shooting stars in political history. Oh, those wacky, alternately hilarious, terrifying and vicariously painful memories.

Palin's exited the political stage much the same way as she entered it, with a jumble of incoherent, often plainly contradictory statements. Certainly, only the most gifted politician could declare her contempt for quitters in the midst of a resignation speech, and it's only slightly less impressive a trick to condemn the media that made you into a star for daring to look beneath your corona of neo-con pancake makeup.

But what does this all mean, aside from Tina Fey perhaps having fewer distractions from 30 Rock? Some in the dastardly media have busied themselves by guessing Palin's next move, while others have speculated on her mental state. In a piece that predated (and who knows, maybe played a role in) her resignation, Vanity Fair contributor Todd Purdum introduces readers to Palin acquaintances who wonder if her zaniness is due to narcissistic personality disorder or postpartum depression. But in this post for DoubleX.com, a shrink rightly dismisses these pop-psych diagnoses. Palin may have delusions of grandeur, but they're not medically debilitating - they're just childish and immature. 

What it means for society may be more promising. As Purdum notes, Palin seems to suffer above all from a chronic disinterest in policy and the actual affairs of the world, traits she shares with a certain president just recently put out to the speaking-tour pasture. If she is indeed leaving politics for good, she will hopefully take with her the disturbing trend of politicians using their own ignorance, xenophobia and lack of curiosity as the building blocks of successful campaigns and careers. 

George W. Bush appealed to a segment of the American population that, like the cool kids in middle school, saw great virtue in not knowing stuff. Palin took that same cult of personality to its most absurd extremes, and may have stretched it beyond the point of viability. 

Or maybe not. In which case, we'll see her in 2012.

The Off-Ramp

Got back a couple of nights ago from a five-day camping trip that represented an unusually thorough detachment from the daily process of keeping up with the news. Without internet access - or even access to other people for much of the time - the entire world was pretty much off my radar between last Friday night and this past Wednesday. Can't remember the last time I went so dark for so long (I know, it wasn't really that long), and as I drift slowly back into the real world, I have a couple of observations to share about what it's like to take the off-ramp from the information superhighway.

First, I'm amazed at how easy it was. Being a journalist, information is kind of my thing, and my normal day involves an obsessive amount of reading about everything from current events to entertainment to sports. I don't generally like feeling that I don't know what's going on. And yet it didn't take me long to forget about pretty much everything. I had no inclination to read more about Michael Jackson's death. I seemed to resolve that the situation in Iran would either resolve itself or not without my reading or hearing about it. And though I remained a bit curious about the National Hockey League draft, I completely forgot about the opening of the league's free agent season. I'm usually slavishly devoted to reading up on this stuff - especially the hockey stuff - but while I missed it, I didn't miss it. 

Secondly, I'm amazed at how overwhelming it can be to come back from such a break. So much to catch up to, so many stories that have come and gone, so many others for which it's hard to pick up an accurate, contextually-appropriate trail. I'm a bit of an OCD completist, so it's hard for me to scan the headlines and just focus on the most recent stuff. I want to know the whole conversation. But in the digital age, missing a few days' worth of conversation means climbing a mountain of words, much of which has already become irrelevant.

I guess this is just another "digital age" post. Not really breaking new ground here. But after taking a few days off, I realize just how accustomed I'd become to the constant flow of information. The good news is that it's possible to take a step back and realize that, just because it's possible to find out about anything, anytime, anywhere, one isn't obligate to do that. Information can be an addiction, but it's pretty easy to get on the wagon. Information, like the furniture, will be there when you get back.