Lesson for Life #1 – Empathy

In order to explain how empathy came to me, and why empathy is lesson number one, I first have to give you the background of the events that lead me to this lesson. I have a retired US politician, a nightclub, rain and some strangers to thank. So if you’ll indulge me, here is how I came to regard empathy as a very important life lesson.

In an effort to stop my brain from turning to mush over the summer, I decided to take adavantage of the library in college before they revoked my student card, and actually get some books out that might be some way relevent to my masters. I have been reading The Fog of War : Eleven Lessons from the Life of Robert S. McNamara. Robert McNamara is a former US Secretary of Defense and was involved in some of the major international crises of the 20th century during his career. The Fog of War is a book based on a documentary made about the lessons McNamara learned from his involvement in events such as the Cuban Missile Crisis and the Vietnam War.

Robert S. McNamara

In terms of stopping my brain turning to mush, it is an interesting and stimulating read based on something called critical oral history. This combines the insights of historians, official documents and the recollections of former officials, who were heavily involved in the events, in order to come to conclusions regarding lessons that should be learnt from certain mistakes or crises in international history. The ‘fog of war’ refers to how these mistakes are often made because of the effect that war has on human rationality, emotion, trust and decion-making ability.

This book explores some of these lessons and is designed to give the reader a chance to understand what it must have been like for rational human beings to have had their judgements clouded by the ‘fog of war.’ The first lesson, and probably the most important one to all the rest, is empathise with your enemy. Empathy is very important in international relations, and it is also often absent. Things that we read or hear about as news or history were more than just monumental events at one point. Each of these huge things can be broken down into a series of decisions made based on the knowledge, sources, fears, beliefs and assumptions of various political leaders. The point of the empathy lesson is that two opposing parties can be in complete disagreement over something and may be completely unable to see eye to eye on aims or principles, but can still understand that the other party may feel genuine fear, concern or interest. It was because of a lack of empathy that the Cuban Missile Crisis nearly became the most devastating loss of human life in history, and it is because of empathy that it was finally averted.

All of this makes perfect sense, and it makes even more sense if you read the book, which you should, if you have the chance.

Allow me now to apply the lesson of empathy to my own life, but instead of the Fog of War, I am going to refer to the events of last night as the Fog of Rain.

So I went to work yesterday evening, with my head full of words and thoughts to take me through the hours. My evening job consists of standing outside the Courthouse handing out flyers for a Cork Nightclub. It’s grand work, when the weather is nice. The time flies and you meet and see lots of people. Last night, the weather was awful. It lashed rain for the whole three hours, and the street was not the same hive of excitment that it usually is when groups of people are coming and going.

So it rained and poured, and I tried to give flyers to the people who walked past in dribs and drabs. In my mind, every one person who accepted a flyer from me made my bundle one flyer lighter, and made it a smidgen easier to hold my giant umbrella. When you’re wet and cross, (or when the fog of rain descends upon you) it’s strange how the tiniest gestures, like someone taking a flyer and saying thank you, can give you a little bit of extra steam. It’s like half way through a run up hill, a sup of water can make you go on for that little bit longer without feeling like you want to die.

In my mind, I knew that if I was miserable under my umbrella, then all of these people trudging to and fro in the fog of rain must be miserable too. Yet I still had to do my job, so I tried not to be too annoying and just do the flyering.

Most people just take it and keep going. Maybe they use it, maybe it gets binned - I don’t know. But some people just ignore you, or just stuff their hands in their pockets and shake their heads or try not to catch your eye and scurry past. Why do they look so frightened? I’m not selling anything, I’m not asking them to stop, I’m not going to beat them up. Every single time a person turns down a flyer it’s like a little kick in the guts. Just TAKE it. I don’t care what you do with it anymore. JUST TAKE IT!!

My anger, their fear, the reason they won’t take it, the reason I really want them to – it’s the special set of circumstances offset by the rain.

And then, under my umbrella, alone, in the rain, it came to me. These are the people, that, given a situation of substantially higher stakes and more serious consequences, would be the non-empathisers. You can always tell about a person’s intuition in its simplest form by how they react to a minor incident with a complete stranger when no one is watching.

The people who refuse to take a simple flyer from me are doing so because they are wet, in a hurry and probably not going to go clubbing. But if they empathised with me, then surely they would see that I’m pretty miserable too,  handing out flyers in the rain. And even though we are on opposing sides, with me giving out flyers, and them not wanting them, me wanting them to go to a club, and them not wanting to, they would appreciate that my aims are not malicious, but I am only doing what is in my best interest (earning money, for food), and the best interest of my peple (the nightclub) and what I believe in principle is right. (Go out and have fun, don’t go home!)

The fact that they don’t care about or agree with these ideals and aims, is irrelevant. They should understand that this is what I must do. I understand their feelings. And I’m not getting in the way of their aims. They can still go home, they don’t have to go anywhere, they don’t have to talk to me. Nothing about their life needs to change, other than the fact that they make my night a little better.

So you see: it makes perfect sense. They didn’t take a flyer because they don’t want one, and their personal wants outweighed their capacity for empathy.

And they all passed by. And I was left standing there. With my soggy flyers. In the rain.

The most positive outcome of this whole experience is that I managed to actually remember something I read in a book, and managed to apply it (don’t even think about saying tenuously) to a real-life, 1st principles scenario. And by coming up with this (don’t say mad) theory, I managed to kill few minutes in the cold without resorting to games on my mobile that are likely to murder any brain cells I did preserve by reading a history book in the first place.

Thank you Robert.

Thank you rude strangers.

Thank you Fog of Rain.

Countdown to the end of an era

” As the countdown to a brand new channel ends, a brand new Countdown begins.”

- Richard Whiteley introduces the first episode of the first ever show on Channel 4, Countdown.

Since it began in 1982, Countdown has become what afternoon television is all about for millions of people. Richard Whiteley and co-presenter Carol Vorderman hosted the words and maths gameshow until Whitely’s death in 2005. After Whiteley passed away, he was replaced with Des Lynam and later, Des O’Connor.

I’m sure I’m not alone in saying Countdown was an important part of my youth. When I was little my Dad used to play along with countdown, working out the letters in anagram form on top of the newspaper. When I got older, I would always switch on Countdown when I got home from school, and with my sandwich and tea, I’d tear into all the letters and see if I could beat the contestants. I remember chuckling as the first 4 letters spelled out ‘TWAT’ or ‘BINT’. I remember my brother’s teenage crush on Carol Vorderman with her sexy top, mathematical prowess and oddly filthy laugh. Even to this day, everything about Countdown is wonderful: the tea-time teasers, the twee little stories from Lionel Blair or some other British afternoon TV personality, Susie’s quick thinking in the dictionary corner and the feeling you get when you outsmart the contestants.

The one person I could never outsmart though was the brains of the operation, the first lady of Countdown, the mathematical genius herself, the lovely Carol Vorderman. And now, after 26 years, Vorderman has announced that she is stepping down as TV’s sassiest, classiest maths nerd.

After initial reports that Vorderman was quitting Countdown because Des O’Connor was leaving, and she felt she couldn’t bond with another host, it emerged that she has actually been forced out of the show. Vorderman was given a choice : either accept a 90% pay cut or leave.  She was given 48 hours to make her mind up, and apparently, she loved the show so much she nearly agreed to the huge cut in her salary.

But, alas, tis the end of an era. Vorderman has decided to step down and is said to be saddened that her time on Countdown has come to an end. Well, so am I. Carol was fantastic, and as far as I’m concerned, she was what made the show after Richard Whitely passed away. He was such a legend and they had such a great repertoire onscreen, that no one could fill his shoes. It’s no wonder they’re moving on to their 3rd host in as many years.

Losing Carol Vorderman is losing everything that has made the show such an iconic programme for so many years. It is a show that won it’s own following and viewers and contestants because of its unique dynamic.

These days, all gameshows seem to have an aim of contestants winning £250,000 in return for proving they can do karaoke or have more knowledge than a 10 year old child. Countdown was telly with integrity. It made you work your brain hard, and in return you got a dictionary. It wasn’t about the glamour, the fame or the money. It was about the words, the maths, the challenges and the feeling you got when the 30 seconds were up and you had an 8 letter word, or when you managed to figure out the maths question when it gave you 75s or 25s instead of 100s or 50s, or when you got the conundrum before they did. Countdown was a piece of telly that was just like a piece of cake in your nan’s house after school: it wasn’t what you wanted to do all the time, but it gave you that lovely safe, warm feeling inside after a long day.

And now, they want to replace Carol with either Myleene Klass or possibly Ulrika Johnson. Myleene is a classically trained musician and is studying astronomy. Ya, but can she do this…..?

The Dark Knight

The Dark Knight was always going to be exciting. It was going to be big. I knew that. We all knew that.

 

I went to a screening of it on Wednesday and, naturally, the theatre was packed out. The hype had been building up around the film for over a year. Originally this was because of the success of the first movie of the trilogy, Batman Begins. Christopher Nolan had executed the introduction to Batman/Bruce Wayne expertly. The Dark Knight was then tantalisingly advertised, with limitied snippets and glimpses at what was in store being dangled in front of film and comic book fans like pieces of meat.

In January, as the flurry of excitement began to subside, a new kind of stir and air of anticipation was created around the film. It was no longer the fanatical anticipation of explosions, gadgets, violence and the ultimate vigilante superhero. This was a feeling that the film was something more. It was still the most anticipated sequel of the year, but now, it was special in a way that could not be compared to any other film in recent times.

When Heath Ledger tragically died in January he had completed all his work on the Dark Knight as the Joker, and the world held its breath in a mixture of shock and anticipation of what was whispered about as his masterpiece.

Unavoidably the Dark Knight became Heath Ledger’s film; his epithaph.

 

The feeling in the darkened cinema theatre on Wednesday night was one shared by the 400 people filling the seats. This had to be good. We’d all been sucked in by the frenzy, the excitement, the whispers of brilliance. We all wanted it to be great. Before the projecter jumped to life there was an odd feeling that what was about to come at you via the cinema screen was more than just a film. It was something precious, that you weren’t sure how to handle. It was strange to me, but as an avid movie fan and cynic by nature, I had never felt like this before seeing a film I had been looking forward to.

And I felt it. I felt it all around. The projecter started. There were hoots. Really.

I was worried that the tragic story of Ledger’s death would cloud my judgement of the Dark Knight, but I have to say that everything about the film blew me away. (I will use the word brilliant quite a bit as I run out of adequate adjectives.) There is no doubt that it is Ledger’s film. He portrayed the Joker with chilling perfection. It is ironic that what made it easier for me to overlook the hype surrounding the film due to Heath Ledger’s unexpected death was the quality of his own performance. Throughout the film, from the classic Batmanesque robbery to the unforgettable introduction of the Joker to the Gotham City mob to the manically hilarious hospital scene, Heath Ledger becomes the Joker. The stunningness of the transformation made it feel that you were not looking at a talented actor and valuing his work, but at a psychotic villain. The chilling thing about the Joker in the Dark Knight is that he appears free from all traces of humanity and empathy. The character is the most frightening kind of villain : he has nothing to lose, nothing to prove and does not care about the world anymore. Everything is a game, a jest and in the Dark Knight this is played out with poetic brilliance.

The worry with a performance so convincing and so strong as Ledger’s is that the other characters pale in comparison. This was not a trap the Dark Knight fell into. The attention paid to each character by Nolan is what balances out this film. The interplay between the characters as the story of the billionaire vigilante superhero unfolds is what makes this film more than just a comicbook adaptation. Having told the story of how Bruce Wayne came to be Batman in Batman Begins, Nolan was able to make the most of the characters and the action in the Dark Knight.

The inner conflict of Bruce Wayne between his duty to the people of Gotham and to the memory of his parents and his love for childhood friend Rachel Dawes and his wish to hang up his cape and be with her is a constant motif throughout the film. The pairing of Wayne with the personalities of the characters around him emphasise this battle in a way that sneaks emotion and heartbreak into this action-packed film without it lapsing for a moment or feeling in the least bit forced.

First off, in terms of the chivallrous knight in the film, we have the contrast between Aaron Eckhart’s Harvey Dent and Christian Bale’s Bruce Wayne/Batman. Dent is the idealistic Distric Attorney who is in a relationship with Rachel Dawes (portrayed, significantly less annoyingly than by Katie Holmes, by  Maggie Gyllenhaal) and Bruce Wayne is the billionaire who is a crime fighting vigilante by night and for that reason cannot live a life in the open with the love of his life, Dawes. If he hangs up his disguise and gives up his role as the dark knight of Gotham, they can finally be together. In Wayne’s vision for Gotham, Dent will take over from him as the white knight; as Gotham’s legitimate saviour. The inverse nature of the the roles of these two characters in the plot of the film frames the action in a subtle but effective way.

The theme of justice vs. revenge addressed in Batman Begins is continued in the Dark Knight. When Bruce Wayne sought to vindicate his parents’ deaths in Batman Begins, Rachel faced him with the difference between justice and revenge. It was this lesson that set him on the path of the superhero in the first place. In Harvey Dent we see a handsome, idealistic lawyer who wants to see the best in Gotham City and its inhabitants. He is in love with Rachel Dawes and his whole future is mapped out in front of him. As he slowly begins to lose faith, hope and everything he holds dear we see his character transform into a darker individual and we see what can happen when a good man loses everything and takes things into his own hands. The glimpse at what may have become of Bruce Wayne had it not been for his friendchip with Rachel and what has happened to Harvey Dent because of his relationship with her is very interesting. 

In terms of a dramatic foil to the character of Bruce Wayne, the Joker is the striking opposite and yet, oddly similar match to the billionaire superhero. The conflicted conscience of Wayne is what makes his character so complex. Everything about his morality prevents him from crossing over to the dark side, yet it is the same humanity that stops him from abandoning Gotham City in pursuit of his own happiness. His skill and power as a superhero obviously catches the attention of the menacing Joker, who sees crime as a game. Everything about the Joker is villainous, and all humanity is absent from the character. The closest we see to humanity is when the Joker toys with those he preys on or intimidates by brandishing his knife and telling the story of the origin his facial scars. But even this is part of his twisted game as each story differs based on the scene which is playing out at that time. The empathy free, psychotic spree of the Joker is in stark contrast with the conscience heavy, duty bound pursuits of Batman.

Yet, as the Joker points out, the two are oddly alike in the Gotham underworld. They are ‘freaks.’ They hide behind masks and operate below the realms of the law-abiding and the public. The Joker uses this tactic in his game to tempt Batman over to his side, but soon realises that the vigilante is not for turning. It is in the weakness of Harvey Dent that the Joker eventually has his finest hour.

All I’ll say is that the encounter between Harvey Dent and the Joker in the third act is one of the best scenes I’ve scene on the big screen in a long time.

Ultimitely, the nature of the characters and the intricate nature of the storyline means that this is a whole lot more than just an action movie or a comic book movie. But, lest we forget, it is still an action movie. In the Dark Knight though, there is no danger of forgetting that this is a super hero action film. From the suspense ridden scenes orchastrated by the calculating and manic genius of the Joker to the introduction of the awesome Bat Bike to big explosions and cool special effects, this film delivers on the action front. It has it all.

 It is dark, moving, suspense-filled and with cool special effects to boot. Beyond any doubt, it is the Joker’s movie. Heath Ledger’s performance is quite simply iconic. Even still, the strength of the other characters means that it doesn’t overshadow any of them and none of the story is lost.

The Dark Knight is brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

 

Coming Soon to Cork : Fun, Cheap and Not to Be Missed

It’s that torturous crawl to the end of the month for me again. Koka Noodles and Lidl Shampoo are keeping me alive. It’s those few days before the monthly pay packet hits my bank account when I go to the pub and leave with a giant roll of pub toilet-roll in my bag. I’m one of these paupers who can’t seem to adjust to the lifestyle that accompanies poverty. I still want to do things. I want to go out. I want music. I want to dress nice. I want fun. So if I do get a windfall of a few 2 euro coins behind the couch or a twenty euro note in the pocket of my jeans, I don’t spend it on groceries and washing powder. No No, I live on bread and noodles and find something cheap and fun to do to pass the days until I can skip gaily to the buttered side of the breadline once again.

Until that day though, I am pleased to report that I have been finding plenty of fun things to do in and around Cork that cost little to no money. all it will take is a little imagination, car-pooling, money pooling and creative accounting.

Dead Cool

First up on Tuesday at the Pavillion, Carey’s Lane, there is a really great idea for a slightly different night of fun and music with every wordplay and music lover’s dream ‘Let’s Get Quizzical’ followed by ‘Dead Cool.’ Dead Cool is just that, very cool. All the tracks on the night are by dead people. And every week, just to mix things up,. there is one track by a living person who everyone thinks is dead. This is a lovely venue and a night I think is worth checking out. All this and, it’s FREE. Ah the word just gives me a little glimmer of excitement when I type it. FREE…mmmmm.

Doubletime

If you’re not sick of the Pavillion by Friday, then I seriously recommend checking out Doubletime, upstairs from 8pm Friday 25th July. On the last Friday of every month for the last 5 years, the sax-playing-swing-loving-bebraced legend himself, DJ Gary has been satisfying the needs of the romp-lovinf, swing-dancing, jazz-hungry masses. Playing the best jazz fromt he 1930s and 1940s, Gary has the gift of actually making you forget what year it is. With the usual venue being the Spailpin Fanach, the decor usually plays a part in that as well. But there is something about a room full of people stomping and swinging to 1930s jazz in low-light and high-heat that really makes you feel like you shouls be hearing a war siren at any minute. It really is a fantastic night out. This week is extra special because it is Doubletime’s 5th birthday. So for just €10 you can enjoy a rip-roaring night of fun, and possibly (if you’re quick and lucky) leave at the end of the night with one of Doubletime’s famously aesthetically pleasing posters.

When it seems like all is lost, and you’ve spent the last of you earnings on a ticket to see the Dark Knight in Cork’s most over-priced cinema, and you feel like you need your next cheap dirty fix of entertainment, along comes an absolute glowing-white knight on a majestic steed in the form of Cork’s most exciting new festival: Indie-Pendence.

Indie-Pendence 

Indie-Pendence is running over the course of the August bank holiday weekend in Mitchelstown. The line-up includes acts such as Gemma Hayes, Fight Like Apes, FRED, Dirty Epics, Hope is Noise, the Blizzards…. I could go on but the excitement might make my fingers grab the keyboard against my will and throw it out the window. And as already pointed out, I’m a little bit poor to avaoid such setbacks in my carefully reginmented budget. The festival takes place throughout Friday, Saturday and Sunday and the absolute best thing about it is it is completely FREE (that beautiful word again. After hearing reports from Oxygen on Fight Like Apes, and great feedback on Dirty Epics and considering the speed at which the stars of the Blizzards and Gemma Hayes and of course

FRED have risen in the last couple of years, this really is an opportunity to school yourself in the talent that Cork and Ireland has produced in recent times. It is also a prime example of one of the many fantastic events that makes Cork worthy of it’s title as the Real Capital. Don’t miss this!

So, I’ve given you at least 2 weeks worth of free music, alternative club nights, fun and games and adventure there for the bargain price of €10 + petrol money. But remember : faint heart never won free lift!

Enjoy your week.

Obama : Intelligent, Inspiring, Dynamic and Really Not Funny

 As the US Presidential Race heats up, it’s difficult to read a publication on world politics or watch a global news programme without coming across a story relating to the 2008 elections. Amidst the serious articles, interviews, polls and analysis there is always a place for satire. Journalists and cartoonists all over the world had a field day with Hilary Clinton. She’s a woman, a former first lady and, well, a Clinton. On top of that she has a habit of making some very dodgy facial expressions in public and even crying at one point during her campaign, while addressing the press and public in New Hampshire in January. When she finally bowed out of the race for the Democratic nomination after year and half slog-out with Barack Obama, it was a race between Obama and the Republican candidate, John McCain. The focus of the comedy world shifted now to the young African-American nominee and the aging Vietnam Veteran. As with any Republican Senator in the US, there was no shortage of Left-Wing critics of McCain. Jon Stewart and the crew on The Daily Show in particular have a reputation for pulling no punches when it comes to satirising the politics and actions of the Republican Party.

When it comes to political satire, it seems that it is the Democrat nominee, Barack Obama, who is proving to be the bump in the comedy road. Whatever you say about the popular Democrat Senator, he is really hard to make fun of. He’s steering clear of controversy and has taken early criticisms of his inexperience and idealistic politics of ‘hope’ and ‘change’ in his stride. Now he has secured the nomination, he is the picture of the balanced, confident, popular politician. He is young, but not naive, hopeful, but not unrealistic, smart, but not uncool, and cool but not in an irresponsible threatening-to-middle-America sort of way. He is the wind of change that gently caresses the back of your neck and reminds you to take a sweater, as oppose to the hurricane that blows your umbrella inside out when you were expecting a light drizzle. People think he is wonderful, and it is easy to see why.

So when a Fox news reporter commented that his greeting with wife, Michelle, was a ‘terrorist fist-jab’ people were obviously shocked at the implication. Most people though it was ridiculous and the reporter soon took back the remarks and said they were meant as a joke. It was this incident that sparked the New Yorker to last week put a satirical cartoon of Barack and Michelle Obama on its cover. The cartoon depicts the couple bumping fists with Obama dressed  in Muslim robes and his wife in combat gear. There was a portrait of Osama Bin Laden on the wall of the Oval Office and an American Flag burning in the fireplace.

The response from both Democrat and Republican camps was to decry the cartoon as being offensive and out of line. The New Yorker, which has a history of such political sattire, defended the cartoon rightfully. The cartoon is not 1930s propaganda. It is not depicting the Obamas as terrorists. The idea of the cover was to take all the ridiculous things that had been uttered in relation to Obama, blow them up, and show how silly a picture they made. The theme of the cover was the Politics of Fear, and the point was to show all the ridiculous things (like a Christian Democrat Senator is an Islamic terrorist) people say in order to frighten people distort the democratic process in the United States. It has been this way for some time, and has heightened during the reign of the Bush Administration and come under particular scrutiny with political documentaries such as Farrenheit 9/11 and Bowling For Columbine, by Michael Moore.

Following the harsh criticisms of the New Yorker cover from the Obama camp, many late night comedians began to feel the sting of the lack of things to make fun of about Barack Obama. All the reasons he is wonderful make it difficult enough for your average left-wing satirist, but the reaction the New Yorker got for making fun of religious or racial criticisms of the politican really seemed to put the fears into political comedians in the States. With the researchers and audiences of late night comedy shows being predominantly white, they want to avoid backlash for sketches that may be deemed racist. Jon Stewart has said that finding jokes about the healthy, intelligent, gifted public speaker is not an easy task. “We’re carrion birds,” said Stewart, “We’re sitting up there saying ‘Does he seem weak? Is he dehydrated yet? Let’s attack.’ … So far, our take is that he’s positioning himself to be on a coin.”

Maybe there is nohing funny about Barack Obama. Maybe he is just one of those people that you like, but just can’t joke about. Maybe after 8 years of Bush, we need a straight laced, straight talking intelligent figurehead. But at the same time, I think he last thing the democrat nominee in this tight race needs to be doing is taking him too seriously when it comes to media sattire. Obama seems to have it all. I’d hate to see him taking himself too seriously as the perfect president become the one thing that the satirists can say about him without fear of reprecussions. Well, that and his big ears.

Not So Sweet Charity

Charity as a concept has become a bit of a head-scratcher for me. Many groups and organisations establish themselves as charities in order to raise money for the causes to which they are devoted. I understand that much. I understand that the word charity emerged from a Latin translation of the Greek word agapé, which in Christian teaching meant unlimited kindness to others. The central concept of charity is generosity. It is about giving to those in need. It is meant to be about sacrifice in the interest of others, and it is not meant to be limited in how far it reaches and how far it is willing to go. Every person is entitled to give as much money or time as they wish to the charity of their choice. In modern times, it is often harder to spark people’s interest then it was in the time of the New Testament. One thing that people respond to when it comes to reaching into their pockets is a big name or a big stunt. Whether it’s Reese Witherspoon promoting cute bracelets for UNIFEM, popstars like Amy Winehouse raising money and awareness for AIDS in Africa at Nelson Mandela’s 90th Birthday concert, or former WAG and generally useless party girl Danielle Lloyd raising money for a breast cancer charity on celebrity Gladiators, people like to think they are getting something for their money, or at least that someone with a lot is giving something to make their contribution seem even more valuable. Whatever way you look at it, charity is a good way to put celebrities to work for their limelight.

The point of this observation on modern celebrities and charity is that today, I was reading the Irish Examiner and something I read really annoyed me. As part of a new Irish reality TV show Fáilte Towers, a number of ‘celebrities’ are to act as hotel chambermaids in order to raise money for charity. One of the participants is Irish glamour model, Claire Tully. Claire became famous for being the first Irish glamour model to bare her breasts on page 3 of the Irish Sun last year. She chose the Marie Keating Foundation as her charity as her mother had suffered from breast cancer and che wanted to raise awareness, yet she was rejected by them. She then moved onto Breast Cancer Ireland who also rejected her efforts. She has now settled on the National Breast Cancer Research Institute Centre in Galway as her charity for the show, and the centre will be the recipient of a guaranteed minimum €5,500 from the model.

Lillian McGovern of the Marie Keating Foundation turned down Claire’s offer because apparently it would be ‘mercenary’ to say they ‘will take any money from anybody who will raise it.’ That’s funny, I thought that was what charities do, not mercenaries. Since when has the battle with breast cancer come so far that a charitable organisation dedicated to raising funds and awareness can afford to turn down thousands of euro and publicity based on their personal feelings on the person offering to raise the money? Personally, I was apalled that they decided to reject the money.

When you consider that Amy Winehouse, a woman who has very publically used drugs raises money and awareness for AIDS charities and a model famous for getting her (fake) boobs out and dating a footballer went on Gladiators to raise money for a breast cancer charity, why are breast cancer charities in Ireland turning down money raised by a topless model based on her lifestyle. Why does the background of the person willing to raise money for a charity even need to come into question? If charity is supposed to be unlimited, then why do the charities devoted to these causes feel they are in a position to turn down money being offered to them. I think at the core of it, the issue or cause at stake gets forgotten in the interest of preserving the image of the charity. If we look at what charity is supposed to be all about, there really is no room for such snobbery when it comes to helping a good cause.

The Bigger Picture : Alesha – Look But Don’t Touch

In a new BBC Documentary ‘Look but Don’t Touch’, Alesha Dixon, formerly of the girl band Misteeq, has set herself a mission. In an attempt to expose the effect that celebrities, media and airbrushing have on young girls in society, she has set out to find a magazine that would be willing to put a photo of her completely untouched-up on the cover. Over the course of the programme, she also chatted to children from her goddaughter’s playgroup about what they thought was pretty and what they didn’t like about themselves. (One little girl thought size 14 was too big and another didn’t like herself because she was brown.) Alesha also tracked the progress of an 18-year old girl who, having lost a lot of weight, was getting breast implants to get her boobs back, as well as a woman who wanted to get touched-up photos done of herself for her fiancé before their wedding.

As with all of these types of documentaries, there’s not much wrong with the core idea of it : shallowness + negative body image + unhealthy idealism = bad, appreciating real beauty + liking yourself + not buying into celebrities = good.  It is sad to think that in Fiji, within 3 years of first getting television 12 girls out of 100 had Bulimia. Little girls reading Heat or Mizz think they are fat and ugly. This kind of thing does sadden me, but the programme didn’t altogether convince me that Alesha had the answer.

The main reason that I found her thesis dettached from the whole point of helping young girls with crippling self-confidence is that Alesha is not only drop-dead gorgeous, but also went through the entire programme in full glamourous make-up while being treated like a celebrity. Her crusade was against air-brushing, and eventually she did find a magazine willing to display her ‘untouched’ photo on its cover. But she still had a stunning red gown, full make-up and her hair done by a stylist. She also had a professional camera-crew, lighting and a wind machine. And to add to the absolute shame of the tall, stunningly attractive girl having her photo on the magazine, they put her up on a billboard in central London. While it was up there, she asked a few passers by what they thought. Of course, they all barely noticed and thought she was beautiful in it. So, the point is, you see – they barely notice the absence of air-brushing. But all that tells young girls is that, if you are beautiful and rich you don’t need airbrushing. I mean, if every spotty 12 year old who felt low had a couture gown, a team of stylists and a wind machine she would probably feel like a princess, but most days, she just feels like an ugly girl.

Alesha had help during the programme from her good friend, Cheryl Cole. Amid air kisses and gleaming smiles the two dolled up stunners talked about what they don’t like about themselves. Cheryl doesn’t like her legs. Alesha has some scars and big feet. But they said that when magazines point out that they have cellulite, it helps the normal young girls out there. Just like when they see Kate Moss with cellulite, they are reassured. But far from being this reassuring sisterhood of ‘we’re all flawed’ this just reinforces that physical flaws are important. And no girl looks at Kate Moss or Cheryl Cole and thinks that although they have been repeatedly voted the sexiest or most stylish women in the world, the fact that they have stretch marks on their left leg makes me feel like i’m ok. By focusing on the fact that even the most gorgeous celebrities have hang-ups about air-brushing and flaws may make them seem human, but it also sets the bar even higher. Not only now are you feeling less than the goddess women, you aren’t even near the top of the pile of mortals anymore. I realised, it’s not about the air-brushing and the idea of perfection. Even if you remove the inhuman flawless aspect of it, they are still drop-dead gorgeous and people the world-over desire and envy them. They have trainers, make-up, fans, clothes and tiny waists/long legs/nice boobs. A stunning made-up girl without air-brushing is still a beauty on a pedestal for most nprmal people, and I think the programme sort of missed that, well, a lot to be honest

So even though the central idea didn’t really work for me, my friend and I did get chatting about the whole reason why girls get so sucked into the whole culture of wanting to look like celebrities and what it is we aspire to. The 18 year old girl who got the boob job had a lovely family, good job and handsome boyfriend. He couldn’t understand why she wanted to get surgery. She wanted breasts like Posh Spice. She wasn’t doing it for him. She wanted to be ripped open and have silicone stuffed into her chest and be able to look in the mirror and think she was like Posh Spice. But more than that, she wanted strangers to look at her. She wanted people she didn’t know to admire her.

It’s not just in body conscious women we see it. Young girls today are a lot different to what they were in the early 1990s. (the golden days, you might say.) We watched those films where kids snuck off to cummer camp and had bonfires, we wanted to be the only girl on the basketball team, we watched Saved by the Bell and wanted to hang out on the beach and drink milkshakes. We liked the Babysitter’s Club. Today, my little cousin and her friends love Hannah Monatana – a programme about a 12 year old who leads a secret double-life as a pop star. The star of this show, Myley Cyrus, is 15 and has recently done a racy Vanity Fair photoshoot featuring her and a sheet. Another popular favourite is High School Musical. While more innocent, this still has young teenagers dressing ike adults and being adored up on stage. Young girls today want to be older, have pretty clothes and hair, be famous, recognized and perhaps most disturbingly, fancied. The core needs of young girls has always been to be pretty and popular, but gone are the days of wanting to trick the adults, have sleepovers and have play tricks on boys. Now young girls want to skip a decade or so.

It’s all much more sexualised, and in a very public way. The young women aren’t doing things to make themselves feel beautiful or make their partners happy, and the little girls arent trying to stay out late, go to sleepovers and kiss the boy next door. Girls and women are doing things because being recognised and being adored or admired for being beautiful or flawless is a good thing. Unfortunately, Alesha’s quest did not do much to fix this. It simply changed the degree of perfection to which young girls aspire. In a sense, at least when there was air-brushing we could tell ourselves that she can’t be that beautiful, it’s all digital. But on a 10 foot billboard in London we can see that Alesha is just beautiful. So forgive me if I am hesitant to say that a boundary has been broken with this programme. All I saw was a woman who could use her celebrity status to make a TV documentary and who had long legs, lots of make-up, confidence and contacts. All the girls who aspire to be like celebrities but aren’t naturally beautiful aren’t taking fromt his that natural beauty is ok, they are taking from this that to compete with natural beauties such as Alesha and Cheryl they need help. They need fad diets, make-up, fake tan and in extreme cases cosmetic surgery. And so the cycle continues: girls seeing beautiful people on tv, wanting their lifestyles, and making themselves miserable trying in vain to be like that. Touch-ups or not touch-ups, that is not going to change anytime soon.