DEAD SIRTE

While the exact circumstances surrounding the death of Muammar Gaddafi remain unclear, the figurative queue for kudos formed by those claiming responsibility reflects poorly on our contemporary morals. Once again, a toppled tyrant becomes a trophy corpse for the winning side. As farcically as this resembles the contrived denouement of a Hollywood blockbuster, it atrociously exposes the weaker side of human nature.

Those who would normally express compassion for people suffering through natural disasters and in war zones, appear to demonstrate the conviction that certain figures deserve no pity. Strikingly, these are seldom the same people whose lives were directly impacted by whichever deceased oppressor is the current focus of media saturation. Reacting to the news the general public in the US and the UK reveal a knee-jerk response that is both automatic and unthinking, and almost Pavlovian. This reaction suggests—in the public consciousness—acceptance of the exaggerated significance of symbols in place of an understanding of what they represent.

Gaddafi, along with Saddam Hussein and all the preceding generations of despots including Idi Amin, Pol Pot and ultimately Stalin and Hitler, have become enduring symbols of (and synonymous with) evil. Their well-publicised notoriety has made these wicked people into monsters who, in the minds of most people, personify evil. The most monstrous aspect of this aggrandisement of symbols is one little recognised: the mental paralysis inflicted on those who accept and perpetuate it. When people fixate on individuals they perceive as manifestations of evil, they unconsciously forfeit their personal responsibility to (recognise and) oppose evil in all its forms. In doing so, they accept the subtly peddled misnomer that armies beyond their control have the only relevant battles in hand.

Few people would attempt to defend men like Gaddafi, who was clearly capable of committing atrocities. To revel in the removal of figures like him—celebrating with childlike tunnel vision the slaying of yet another dragon—appeals to our collective sense of justice. A naive feeling follows; a connection with the moral upbringing of our past, when we were taught that bullies can be overcome if we stand up to them. This may well be true, but the trouble is that contemporary bullies are the most powerful people on earth. They are sophisticated and ruthless masters of disguise, adept at misdirection.

RICKY HATTON

Like many people, I have a high regard for Ricky Hatton. A regard undiminished by recent sensationalised exposés of his cocaine abuse. If the former world champion has a drug problem he has my sympathy, but I cannot share the ‘disgust’ he was quoted as feeling.

  Over snorting cocaine? A snort of derision should greet the media-orchestrated process of apologetic self-abasement now expected from fallen role models.  

  Addressing the specifics, I wonder if even prolonged use of a class A drug is as dangerous to one’s mental health as a career enduring punches to the head.

  More broadly, when are the general public going to stop reacting with disappointment and surprise when individuals who famously excel at one thing prove fallible?

'WACKO JACKO' WON'T BE BACKO!

The untimely demise of Michael Jackson has precipitated a media-fuelled process that is becoming strangely familiar. A process involving mass grieving in public, hysterical overreaction and the phenomenal enrichment of florists; a process that first occurred, and most visibly, with the death of Diana. A process involving repetitive cycles of news bulletins with clichéd sound bites from celebrity friends, linked with footage of fans gathering in places connected with the deceased. A process that has no clear rationale behind the prioritisation of its coverage; causing Diana’s death to overshadow that of Mother Teresa and MJ’s to outrank Farrah Fawcett’s.
On TV, admirers relate their feelings of devastation with apparent sincerity, incongruous with their status as, often, complete strangers to their late icons. As superlatives are added to sentences of increasingly exaggerated praise, disproportionate to the achievements of any human life, marketing forces capitalise on relevant merchandise with the unselfconscious abandon of a swarm of locusts. Media mantras mesmerise members of the public into reactions of a Pavlovian nature. Discussions between people include the half-dozen or so catchiest headlines and quotes, becoming confused with their own thoughts.
There is much hypocrisy with this process of virtual deification—in Jackson’s case people seem afflicted with especially short memories. Forgotten are their previous impressions of the performer as a complete weirdo. ‘Wacko Jacko’ was the phrase most typically used to describe the eccentric star in life. In death, the same tabloid that coined this derogatory phrase published a 32-page commemorative souvenir in a vulgar display of obvious double standards. Although Jackson was cleared of child abuse charges, there was a widespread and general feeling among the public that there is ‘no smoke without fire.’ While Jackson’s reputation was tarnished by these suggestions—they would have irrevocably destroyed that of anyone else, famous or not—he appeared to bounce back. To survive suspicions and accusations of the type of behaviour that is universally condemned and considered so heinous it is irredeemable makes MJ unique. A fact as notable, perhaps, as the one that he produced the best-selling album of all time, ‘Thriller.’
Naturally, his death is sad—as sad as the loss of any life. How many millions of other people died around the same time is a hard to guess figure. Equally hard to figure is how public figures have come to figure so largely in the daily lives of significant numbers of people, leading pedestrian lives out of the limelight. Is there any shared sense (among anyone ‘out there’) of urgency behind the desire to understand this?