Comedians bovvered by Evangelical Christians

In a reversal of the familar pattern, a Christian publisher is being threatened with legal action by comedians upset by the use of their catchphrases on evangelical posters aimed at teenagers.

The catchprases, such as Catherine Tate's adolescent 'Am I bovvered?' and Little Britain character Vicky Pollard's 'Yeah but no...' have long been popular in playgrounds (much to the annoyance of teachers), and indeed on other TV shows and the media generally. While the agency acting for the Little Britain creators insists that it would do the same with any business violating their copyright, it seems likely that the offence is compounded by the fact that Evangelical Christians promote values different from those current among the media class, especially on the subject of homosexuality. No doubt the comedians' objections have merit politically, but enforcing 'copyright' like this is a churlish and censorious way to register displeasure. Whatever the legal case, objecting when someone else uses your catchphrase is ridiculous as well as mean-spirited. Wouldn't these comedians be better off making a joke of the Evangelicals if they dislike them so much, rather than making a po-faced joke of themselves?

Dolan Cummings

The trouble with tenure

The current controversy surrounding Abu El-Haj, an anthropologist at Barnard College in the US, highlights important questions about academic freedom. Essentially, it seems El-Haj’s work suggests that prevailing ideas about the ancient Israelites are the product of modern Israeli politics as much as archaeological or genomic discoveries. Predictably, especially given El-Haj’s Palestinian background, she has come under fire from those who see this as a challenge to the legitimacy of the Israeli state, and the usual polarisation of opinion has ensued. The Chronicle of Higher Education reports that there are currently two online petitions, one to deny El-Haj tenure and another to grant it to her.

The situation is complicated by the fact that many of the criticisms are academic: El-Haj is alleged to lack knowledge of Hebrew, for example, and to employ an unscientific ‘social constructivist’ approach. This means her supporters have been caught between a straight ‘academic freedom’ defence, and a substantive defence of her work. Ultimately, it is impossible to separate the two. If someone’s work is entirely without academic merit, there is no meaningful argument for academic freedom: she can be dismissed from a university to pursue her work independently. Things are rarely so clear-cut, though: often academics disagree about what is a worthy line of enquiry, and thus the notion of academic freedom depends on colleagues granting one another the benefit of any reasonable doubt.

Where things get really complicated, as in this case, is when political disagreements take an academic form, and especially when non-academics weigh in, as with the petitions. Fellow anthropologist Paul Rabinow, who is sympathetic to El-Haj, has nonetheless refused to sign the petition in favor of granting her tenure, on the quite reasonable grounds that “Petitions about people’s tenure cases are completely out of order…It’s a breakdown of the standards of debate. I guess the alternative then is demagoguery.” The Chronicle also quotes mathematician and ‘science warrior’ Norman Levitt, who has signed the petition against El-Haj, arguing that “It is wiser to acknowledge that the educated public has something to say about “professional” matters... than to fill the air with pompous resentment when such criticism arises”. Levitt has a point, too, inasmuch as the public has a right to criticize and dispute the merits of academic work. But to suggest that academics should be influenced by public opinion when assessing the work of their colleagues is indeed to open the door to demagoguery.

The whole point of academic freedom, as opposed to simple free speech, is that it is both more demanding (because framed by an academic discipline) and to an extent insulated from the outside world (because criticisms from outside that discipline, however popular, are not relevant). However acrimonious their disagreements might be, academics should have the confidence and integrity to maintain their professionalism amid controversy. As long as El-Haj’s colleagues agree her work has merit - which seems to be the case - she should enjoy full academic freedom. Others are free to challenge her work and disagree with her politics, but the dispute over her tenure is the wrong arena for such arguments.

Dolan Cummings

Too rude for YouTube

YouTube, the online video-sharing site, has recently been called on to remove ‘animal cruelty’ clips from its sites, reports The Times. The clip that most ‘distressed’ viewers shows a goat being squeezed to death by a python whilst onlookers laugh in delight. Teachers have further called for the site to be banned in schools, due to ‘cyber-bullying’. Hentai (the more violent strain of Manga) should be removed, according to its Japanese makers, because its posting violates copyright. Still, most violent scenes from Hentai episodes have been cut from YouTube, leaving surreal senseless narratives and montages set to eighties dance music. Rumours of a blanket ban in Thailand have yet to be confirmed, whilst the Chinese are marching ahead launching their own version also to be available in train stations.

Having successfully created a ‘false’ account (I was a 37-year old man, but both ‘paedo’ and ‘paedophile’ were unavailable as names, as were ‘despot’ and ‘goatkiller’), I searched for ‘offensive’ clips of animal death. I discovered they aren’t difficult to find, but most are for pro-animal rights campaigns; and even then, they’re just not very good. Let alone original. It’s not the depiction of animal killing that people complain about, but the fact that it’s not condemned. Likewise, it’s not so much the depiction of tentacle rape, but the thought that you might get off on it.

This censorship is both petty and pointless: it attempts to crack down on certain actions by attacking the products of animal cruelty, bullying and copyright violation rather than their root causes. If you don’t buy into animal rights, or think bullying is part of growing up, and are too broke to pay extortionate DVD prices - in short, if you think that things weren’t actually better in the 1950s, and that people should get a life and get over themselves - it is patently ridiculous.

If you shared the vision of the internet finally providing unlimited access to information and facilitating the open exchange of ideas without monitoring and moralising, think again. YouTube is supposed to be a forum for individuals to upload and watch whatever they like - a sort of free market of clips - with demand set and met by a community of users. Viewers rate clips from one to five stars, with higher-rated material returned first in searches, ensuring greater distribution.

But then comes the need for centralised intervention - users must complain to admins if a clip is “inappropriate”, and these mysterious admins decide whether to take any notice. Often media coverage puts pressure on the site. Extra vigilance and tighter control is justified by the existence of ‘digital-paedophiles’. Governments restrict access and companies attempt monopoly through asserting financial pressure. The python-killing-goat clip apparently had three stars (mediocre), but this played no role in any discussion about its removal. Nobody complained about bad camerawork or boring storyline; just as nobody pointed out the set up was sort of innovative, the image fantastical.

With the ongoing rise of social networking sites promising peer-to-peer relationships and community control of content, which offer unfettered spaces for expression and discussion with likeminded people, the anaethetisation of YouTube is a sorry sign of people’s pettiness. It shows our apparent inability to create alternative spaces where we can truly be free, and signals the stunted potential of self-governance on the web.

Sarah Boyes