In early July, a letter signed by 150 leading writers was published in Harper’s magazine. Signatories included authors J.K. Rowling and Margaret Atwood, and various other influential figures. While welcoming discussion about racial injustice, it condemned “restriction of debate” and “a vogue for public shaming and ostracism.” It was, in effect, about what has come to be known as “cancel culture” and “the war on free speech.” It garnered a great deal of attention. Cancel culture is indeed a worrying phenomenon. In extreme cases, people are hounded for things which they said or wrote much earlier in their lives and no longer believe. Jobs have been lost and reputations smashed, and it’s not always the wealthy and powerful who are victims. Nor is forgiveness especially prominent in all of this because, sometimes, when the accused do show genuine remorse, it makes little difference. I’m certainly opposed to some of the intolerance that we’ve seen, but freedom of speech is not quite as straightforward as some would suggest. There’s the “freedom” to speak, and then there is the “ability” to be heard. In other words, those with wealth and privilege haven’t really had to worry about any of this, because easy access to a newspaper or television network does tend to make one’s freedom just a little more significant. Some years ago, in Toronto, at a major gathering of Canadian evangelicals, a prominent Palestinian Christian was scheduled to lecture. A devout and experienced man, he always spoke of justice and peace. But the atmosphere at this event was strongly Christian Zionist, backed by misunderstood Biblical eschatology. Even though the speaker was dedicated to building bridges with Israelis, delegates pressured the organizers and he was cancelled. I asked some media colleagues for help in reversing this decision. Nobody was willing to do so. More than a decade later, some of those very colleagues are now denouncing what they loudly reject as cancel culture. On a personal level, I had a quite profound conversion of life seven years ago. The details aren’t important, but it led to me changing my stance on some controversial issues. I was, understandably, fired from certain conservative publications and broadcasters, but the campaign went much further. There was a clear attempt to silence me, even to destroy me. I remember one e-mail in particular, because it arrived just before Christmas: “It is felt that with the high public profile you have in media and social networking in relation to gay marriage it is felt that we have to part our ways as an organization.” I had a written list of the confirmed dates on which I was supposed to work for this broadcaster, had been involved with it for years, and had never even mentioned the issue of equal marriage on its television show. Yet I was still cancelled − dismissed by a conservative entity for having liberal views. And that has historically been the way. It is only now, when those on the left challenge more traditional ideas about race, sexuality and politics, that we see such a strong reaction fromalleged defenders of free speech. This is about more than just inconsistency, it’s about an unwillingness to empathize. Hyperbole doesn’t help. I returned to university in 2016, after a hiatus of 34 years. Contrary to what I’d read about political correctness, for three years at various colleges at the University of Toronto, I saw the same attitudes and openness that I’d encountered so long ago in Britain. If anything, the students were less entitled and more studious. Absolute certainty, any certainty, can be a dangerous weapon. A politically and morally healthy society − a politically and morally healthy person, for that matter − asks questions more often than it gives answers. Some people, long impotent, are flexing newly discovered muscles and sometimes hitting too hard and even hitting the wrong targets. But reality cries out to be heard. The status quo has enjoyed virtually unquestioned dominance for centuries, and we will find some sort of balance in due course. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be trans, of colour, or part of any group that has in so many ways been pushed to the edges of the body politic and the media and corporate worlds. I am, after all, a 61-year-old straight white man. God forbid we lose our sense of humour, our kindness, our humanity. But, at the same time, pray that we can imagine and work for a fairer, better future. Opinion with Michael Coren CSANews | FALL 2020 | 15
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy MzMzNzMx