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Don
Imus, radio’s original shock jock, finally gave
his fans one last shock. It was not that he called the Rutgers
women’s basketball team "some nappy-headed hos."
Insults like these have been his stock in trade for decades. Instead,
the shock was the result of these all-too-familiar jibes.
Unexpectedly,
the I-Man, as he is known to his millions of listeners throughout the United
States, for once cut himself with his
sharp tongue, and nothing he did could stop the bleeding. Apologies
public and private, apparently sincere if somewhat bewildered, ("I
didn’t think it was a racial insult") were not sufficient. The end
came quickly. Within days Imus was roundly
criticized, censured, suspended—and, finally, fired.
So,
what caused Imus’s humiliating downfall?
What, in other words, went right? Was his demise another example of
"liberal bias" in the media? Was he a victim of
"left-wing smear sites" as types like Fox’s Bill O’Reilly
claimed? Hardly. Despite the greater inclusion of minorities in recent
decades, the mainstream media, at all levels, is a safe haven for white
males who dominate it both on the air and in the boardrooms.
It
would be naive to think, as some have suggested, that corporate America
suddenly sprouted a social conscience. Such is the self-serving claim
of Imus’s former boss, Leslie Moonves of CBS. Imus’s
firing does not show that the corporate giants have become anti-racist
activists or particularly attuned to progressive ideas.
Yet,
capitalism can be remarkably open, accepting, and even embracing of any
positive value or cause. Capitalism can gladly "celebrate
diversity." It’s only necessary for this diversity—any social
value or moral belief, really—to make a good return on investments. It
has to generate profit.
If
a bigoted radio talk show host attracts large sponsors, and Imus on radio and television brought in an
estimated $50 million a year, then all is well. The company flacks will
defend him by reference to free speech. If this same host suffers a
reversal of fortune when sponsors flee, the company will justify his dismissal
by reference to social well-being and common decency.
In
reality, nothing in the corporate culture has changed. For capitalism,
the only good social value is the one that increases financial value.
Media
critics and pundits have credited the internet and YouTube
for Imus’ crash and burn. Modern technology
allows his remarks to be played and replayed, expanding far beyond the
original audience and severely limiting the possibility for
"damage control."
This
point is well taken, but it leaves unanswered a more fundamental
question: Why didn’t the audience laugh, as it has in the past? If
much, if not most, of America
found humor in racist and sexist jokes, then a million viewings on YouTube would only have produced a million laughs.
Greater publicity would have provided Imus
with greater market share. He probably would have been given a bonus on
top of his $10 million salary.
Outrage
and protest from the Black community certainly exerted some influence.
The National Association of Black Journalists and the National
Organization of Women, and prominent individuals like the Rev. Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson demanded Imus’s dismissal. This public pressure was
important but not decisive. After all, those who are the butt of the
joke are supposed to be offended, and their indignation only adds to
the humor.
This
time the joke rebounded against Imus, and
public sympathy shifted away from the speaker of the joke to its
victims. The key point is that long before Imus
realized it, white America
had concluded that he went "way too far."
A
joke rests on a shared agreement between speaker and listener. The
speaker articulates a thought or feeling that the listeners had not
quite realized or had not dared to say. Laughter from the audience
indicates recognition and approval. This time much of the audience did
not approve and did not laugh, while those who did soon thought better
of it. Without the protection of an audience, Imus
was left exposed and vulnerable, abandoned to "twist slowly in the
wind."
But
why did the white audience recoil from the kind of humor it has enjoyed
before? Part of the answer has to do with the young women themselves.
The Rutgers athletes were too
innocent, too inspiring, and completely undeserving of condescension or
contempt. They were the underdogs in a hard-fought contest that they
lost. Kicking them when they were down was just not funny, even to Imus’s hard-core fans.
Further,
one long-term effect of the civil rights movement and the women’s
liberation movement is the diminished acceptability of overt racism and
sexism. To cite merely one example, shortly after Imus’s
firing, the Boston Marathon was held, and the male and female winners
were justly celebrated. Yet, 30 years ago, women were not allowed to
compete. Women who tried to participate were physically removed by Marathon
officials and male athletes, an ejection cheered by the crowd. That
kind of response, so typical of the past, is unthinkable today.
Finally,
one further aspect of the Imus controversy is
the specifics of his language. After all, instead of the word
"whores," he chose the word "hos."
As Imus pointed out on his radio show,
"This phrase that I use, it originated in the Black community."
Appropriating
the language of some rappers was intended as a hip pose, itself part of
the joke. It was intended to provide a certain distance from the
vulgarity of the remarks, a kind of "plausible denial." It’s
a rationalization that says to white listeners, "See? That’s how
these people talk. Don’t blame me for it!"
But
this time the audience would have none of it. This time no one, not
even Imus’s defenders, accepted his lame
apologetics and denials of racism. Everyone saw through the mask.
It
is time for Imus to go, and he won’t be
missed. Those who live by verbal abuse, die by it. His firing was the
inevitable end to a rotten career that lasted far too long. But time
settles all accounts. Eventually, even the shock jock must himself be
shocked.
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