So which response to this issue is, in Chris Selley's words, "a few chick peas short of a falafel"? The Misses Geller and Shaidle? Or the sensible, reasonable, moderate, measured approach of the PC eunuchs at Canada's most-watched TV stations and major metropolitan newspapers?
When Ezra Levant went nuclear on the "human rights" regime's medieval ass, wise old birds like Catsmeat Kinsella cautioned that Canadians wouldn't put up with some bezerk loon trashing "their" beloved human rights commissions. Really? Whether or not we achieve the repeal of Section 13 and its provincial equivalents, I doubt The Globe & Mail, Professor Moon, and even very tentatively the House of Commons would even be considering the question had it not been for Ezra going ballistic. That's what it took to drag the debate even half-an-inch in the direction of sanity.
I have no views on Chris Selley one way or the other. But I note his response to the Prime Minister's interview with Ken Whyte:
Principal Harper Ends The Free Speech Food Fight.
Each to his own. I don't happen to think of the Queen's first minister as the "principal" with me and the rest of the citizenry as his charges. The head of government is no more or less than just that: He is not my "leader", and certainly not on inalienable rights. But the headline seems to sum up Mr Selley's approach: the judicious arbiter settling midway between two extremes.
Not for me. As I've said re the so-called "global consensus" of the UN, if you mix half-a-pint of vanilla ice cream with half-a-pint of dog feces the result will taste more like the latter than the former. Likewise, if you split the difference between me and Commissar Barbara Hall, or Ezra and Jennifer Lynch, QC, you're still quite a long ways down the road to tyranny. "Moderation" - of the CTV/Gazette school - is a euphemism for drift, for letting the culture be tugged gently, imperceptibly, remorselessly into darkness:
I like the way Deborah Gyapong puts it:
You know why I want to defend Kathy Shaidle? Because she helps keep me honest about whether my civility really is a choice and not a blind or fearful conformity to the pressures of political correctness. She helps me to think about where I might be influenced by group think and the progressive air we breathe in Ottawa. She reminds me of where the line is between kindness and weakness.
Just so. Self-suppression is the most cost-effective form of tyranny. Or as Andrew Klavan says:
The whole way liberals work is to redefine manners and morals in such a fashion that conservative common sense automatically becomes hateful. If you note that women and men are different, you’re misogynistic. If you denounce the destruction of marriage in black communities, you’re racist or moralistic. If you call for the defense of America against the world-wide Islamist menace, you’re a bigoted warmonger. If we take this garbage seriously even for an instant, we spend our whole lives playing catch-up, saying sorry, going on defense.
The Binks adds:
~ WORD HAS IT NATPOST SCRIBBLER CHRIS SELLEY thinks Pam Geller and the Binks family and all the others who wanted a decent memorial stone for honour-slaughtered Canadian teen Aqsa Parvez are not very sensible people.
Ottawegian journalist Deb Gyapong weighs in; as has the inimitable Kathy Shaidle, Pam herself, and others. I had this to say a little while back, in a letter to Jason Kenney. Looks like Teh Steyn has chimed in, too.
Catses & Meeses
OK– imagine: There is a big cat around, which most of the mice are afraid to mention, let alone ponder belling. Some of the mice are even into denying the existence or intent of said cat, and consider the concerned mice or pro-bell mice to be dangerous trouble-making catophobes (technically speaking, Ailurophobes). Even mentioning mice freshly eaten by the cat causes outrage and fear: better just blame those crazy cat-conspiracy mice for bringing it up.
The cats change, but the cowardly mice are always with us, seeking peace with the cat; cat-denial; blaming other mice; writing books about how all the cats are actually the best friends of mice, and are gravely misunderstood. The save-your-ass at the expense of others instinct; the feeding of other mice to the cat, hoping you might be last; the half-conscious denial of the whole cat-problem. Can you say “Peace In Our Time” with kindly Herr Hitler? Meanwhile, the dead mice pile ever up, lives needlessly sacrificed, in various ways and for various noble-sounding reasons, but no less dead.