About the controversy over the new illustration, the meaning, the truth, satire, and political correctness that, once again, are asphyxiating us
by Gianmaria Tammaro, for wired.it.
(This is the English version of the article published the 2nd of September, 2016. Click here to read the original post. English translation by Emanuele Bonini).
There are no half measures when it comes to satire. I realized that after having had discussions with Milo Manara, after having read Luz's book, after having heard about it from illustrators and cartoonists. Satire is uncompromising. That's the point. If it doesn't make indignant, if it doesn't hit, it is not satire. And then it doesn't even make sense to talk about it.
What Charlie Hebdo published in its latest copy is satire. It is, although it talks about the earthquake victims in Italy. Isn't it funny? Well, satire does not necessarily make people laugh: that's comedy. Satire is another stuff. And the problem is that in Italy it is not clear what satire, as in other parts of the world (even if, in some cases, because of real lack of freedom, not only nominal).
More than a year ago, we were ready to fill our mouths with the «je suis Charlie» slogan, and now, today, we are ready to disown it and saying that we were wrong; to say that maybe, perhaps, Charlie Hebdo men are not exactly saints.
It's like the principle by which «satire is fine as long as it is addressed to the others; but when it is addressed to me, to my friends, to my little backyard, then it is unacceptable».
The many interpretations this cartoon offers - three figures, three sentences, we talk about food, about Italy and misfortunes - become of secondary importance, finishing submerged by avalanches of do-goodism and politically correct (the same aspects criticized by Clint Eastwood, and it should be recalled).
Editorials are uncountable as well as are tweets. Indignation rises from civil society and politics. We all go on stage to explain - to pretend of explaining - what satire is. But we do not know. We look at the finger and not at the moon; we look at a cartoon and we don't know what to think. On the contrary, we refuse to think. And this is another problem, another fundamental point.
"Penne with tomato sauce, penne gratin, lasagne" don't make laugh. But these expressions says very, very much. They say, for example, that in front of this massacre we all returned to a shared Italian spirit, to strong values that were gone and probably we have never had. We came back home, we followed pain on TV (like a cooking show) and we did nothing. For that, there was no indignation. There was for an illustration, there was for an author (Monsieur Felix); there was indignation for satire (because it is satire, dear friends!).
We are limited, bigoted, deeply wrong, and we should know: we are Italians. «Je suis Charlie» is difficult, now, to be repeated. And we judge. This is not the way of doing satire, this is bad humour
Do not do this satire. This is bad taste. But man meant as entity rather than an individual, meant as a society rather than a single, isn't easier to be understood in time of tragedies? An illustration is never just a drawing; a phrase, a punchline, are never just a phrase or a punchline. We think, we reflect: the key element of satire is that.
After the tragedy of the earthquake, after the related articles and media reports and embarrassing questions («how are you? how do you fell? where are you going?»...), we found asylum in food. In the Amatriciana sauce, to be precise. Someone maybe will say it has been an initiative of solidarity, and that's OK. But finally it overshadowed everything else. Human mistakes, wasted money, unaware politics, somber nationalism: not even a word on all this.
Saying «je suis Charlie» is useless, it doesn't make sense. It makes somewhat sense to talk about instead of close the eyes and turn the head in the opposite direction. If it doesn't hit, if it doesn't shook, if it doesn't feel disgusting (why not?), I'm sorry, but it is not satire.
(This is the English version of the article published the 2nd of September, 2016. Click here to read the original post. English translation by Emanuele Bonini).
There are no half measures when it comes to satire. I realized that after having had discussions with Milo Manara, after having read Luz's book, after having heard about it from illustrators and cartoonists. Satire is uncompromising. That's the point. If it doesn't make indignant, if it doesn't hit, it is not satire. And then it doesn't even make sense to talk about it.
What Charlie Hebdo published in its latest copy is satire. It is, although it talks about the earthquake victims in Italy. Isn't it funny? Well, satire does not necessarily make people laugh: that's comedy. Satire is another stuff. And the problem is that in Italy it is not clear what satire, as in other parts of the world (even if, in some cases, because of real lack of freedom, not only nominal).
More than a year ago, we were ready to fill our mouths with the «je suis Charlie» slogan, and now, today, we are ready to disown it and saying that we were wrong; to say that maybe, perhaps, Charlie Hebdo men are not exactly saints.
It's like the principle by which «satire is fine as long as it is addressed to the others; but when it is addressed to me, to my friends, to my little backyard, then it is unacceptable».
The many interpretations this cartoon offers - three figures, three sentences, we talk about food, about Italy and misfortunes - become of secondary importance, finishing submerged by avalanches of do-goodism and politically correct (the same aspects criticized by Clint Eastwood, and it should be recalled).
Editorials are uncountable as well as are tweets. Indignation rises from civil society and politics. We all go on stage to explain - to pretend of explaining - what satire is. But we do not know. We look at the finger and not at the moon; we look at a cartoon and we don't know what to think. On the contrary, we refuse to think. And this is another problem, another fundamental point.
"Penne with tomato sauce, penne gratin, lasagne" don't make laugh. But these expressions says very, very much. They say, for example, that in front of this massacre we all returned to a shared Italian spirit, to strong values that were gone and probably we have never had. We came back home, we followed pain on TV (like a cooking show) and we did nothing. For that, there was no indignation. There was for an illustration, there was for an author (Monsieur Felix); there was indignation for satire (because it is satire, dear friends!).
We are limited, bigoted, deeply wrong, and we should know: we are Italians. «Je suis Charlie» is difficult, now, to be repeated. And we judge. This is not the way of doing satire, this is bad humour
Do not do this satire. This is bad taste. But man meant as entity rather than an individual, meant as a society rather than a single, isn't easier to be understood in time of tragedies? An illustration is never just a drawing; a phrase, a punchline, are never just a phrase or a punchline. We think, we reflect: the key element of satire is that.
After the tragedy of the earthquake, after the related articles and media reports and embarrassing questions («how are you? how do you fell? where are you going?»...), we found asylum in food. In the Amatriciana sauce, to be precise. Someone maybe will say it has been an initiative of solidarity, and that's OK. But finally it overshadowed everything else. Human mistakes, wasted money, unaware politics, somber nationalism: not even a word on all this.
Saying «je suis Charlie» is useless, it doesn't make sense. It makes somewhat sense to talk about instead of close the eyes and turn the head in the opposite direction. If it doesn't hit, if it doesn't shook, if it doesn't feel disgusting (why not?), I'm sorry, but it is not satire.
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