An Analogy; A Eulogy

Friends, humans, global citizens, lend me your ears! [Borrowed from Caesar’s friend, Marc].

This is going to be a short piece, because it is about a life cut short.

I come to contemplate Arday, not to praise him.

For truly, I do not know Arday; I do not know the motives that lay in his mind, that drove his actions. Arday, being human, hence naturally having his deepest intentions, like all humans, buried from all around him, even the closest of families and friends; Arday, having family and friends, of which I am neither; he, being miles upon miles away from you and me, having a life of his own; and you, me, ours… separate… it is only natural that this be the fact at hand: I do not know Arday, he was no friend of mine, hence I cannot speak to his intentions, his ambition. But Arday, for a few weeks now, has been front of mind, because British media kept him so. Incessantly so. You go here… Arday this, Arday that; you go there… Arday this, Arday that.

Ambition…
That was Arday’s fault. The incessant rancour, unyielding vilification; the summary of it all, one surmises that it was ambition. Allegations of lies to satisfy this craving… so they claimed.

And what is it that Antony said about this matter of ambition? “If it were so, it was a grievous fault…” But it is only the devil who would proceed to add, “and grievously hath…” It is only the devil who would proceed to complete this quote as it pertains to Arday.

I tell you this, throughout this period, these weeks of interrogations and lacerations by British ‘journalists’, panellists, commenters (the people hiding behind their keyboards in the comment sections in their respective homes), only a tiny fraction of them seemed “well-intentioned”; the vast rest, overtly and covertly brazen in their prejudice. Yet still, I tried, throughout it all, throughout this steep quagmire of lacerations, to interrogate the matter from a level-headed plane.

If the fact of the lies were true, I wondered about Arday’s motives. A cautionary tale, I thought it… One need not, one need never stoop that low into such a rabbit hole of falsehoods, all in the name of ambition. For such lives built, such towers erected, they always stand gingerly on quicksand. One need not be too eager to paint a perception of what, in their minds, are remarkable lives, when in fact the lives they have are already exceptional enough.

If the fact of the lies were true, I wondered about Arday’s professors…his dissertation supervisor. He then, a young man, navigating a thesis, he surely needed… in fact, having paid for and/or subjected himself to this academic institution, he had a right to better supervision and guidance than was being alleged by some panellists and commenters on these British media platforms. And in fact, having my own grudge against a specific Ghanaian tertiary institution on this matter, I pitied Arday for this experience he was alleged to have faced. It is not by force to build and operate a university. It surely is not by force to have a post-graduate programme. So, if a university is to take on students, take moneys from them, they must see it as their duty, and it is in fact so, both in fact and in law, to ensure that these students are provided the prerequisite supervision when producing their academic dissertations. And I had a long discussion with a former lecturer at 7:00 pm, Monday, 10^th August on this matter, as it regarded Arday.

If the fact of the lies were true, I wondered about these institutions’ intentions too. Was Cambridge well-intentioned? Did they truly conduct their due diligence when constructing this throne of recognition? Humans interspersed worldwide, be they Black, White, or any other colour, are endowed with specific talents and articles of wonder by the Creator and thus deserve equal recognition for these gifts… Does Cambridge, in so giving out these recognitions, conduct its due diligence to ensure these persons, be they Black, White, or grey, being placed on these academic pedestals are so placed based on verifiable facts, and not with blinded biases as has, for centuries, been so given in favour of the White folk, and now without care, purported to be given to the Black folk, hence equipping the prejudiced, unimpressive White folk with the tool to go about pointing fingers, saying, “See here, these Black people, they are inherently inferior, that to admit them, we must drastically lower the bar!”? Oh, these categories of unimpressive, mind-numbingly loud White folk, out here looking for reasons and basis upon which to validate their own bland lives. For an institution like Cambridge… if the facts of Arday’s lies were indeed true, for such an institution to fail in this otherwise laudable initiative of diversity, equity, and inclusion, I thought it a grievous fault.

But all this, all my contemplations during this period of vitriol coming from these camps of British media, were pure conjecture, for the facts were truly not known to me. And I was wise enough to know that. Just pure conjecture, my thought processes.

Yet, there was nothing left to wonder about the many journalists, commenters, and panellists. Only a tiny few showed themselves well-intentioned… persons, be they Black, White, or all other colours, who truly wanted to find answers as to whether the allegations against Arday were indeed true, and if so, what necessitated those lies. But the vast majority, they, as noted, were quite overt in their prejudice, many cowered in attempts at the clandestine, but shone still, ever so brightly. Camps of unremarkable White folks looking to reduce another human being so that, like their forebears, they may find for themselves reprieve. The small, small unremarkable Caucasian looking to validate his/her stale existence.

Yet still, I tried, throughout these contemplations, throughout the period of lacerations launched by British media against Arday, to view their actions through the law that protected them, the rights which they held: freedom of speech and of expression. The freedom to question and dissect the actions of all, be they man or woman, Black, White, and all the beautiful colours of the world… A right to point, to even wag fingers, to launch their pens at all for faults they may have committed. A right to write, to investigate, to comment…

And all that accused persons have to do is to retort, if there be mistakes made in these indictments; defend, if they have cause; or, with tails between their legs, accept, if they are indeed guilty.

Throughout this whole period of the many lacerations of Jason Arday, oh, I, in my mind, even knowing and seeing clearly, the prejudice that accompanied this so-called journalistic enterprise, I protected still the rights on which these so-called journalists and commenters rode. So, what do I do? It is Saturday, 15^th August, and Jason Arday has shown, with such a grim statement, that he could not take it anymore, so I go to The Telegraph, one of the leading voices, one of the leading media houses in this matter of the Lacerations of Arday, and what do I see?!

The Telegraph has, on its Instagram, posted news of Arday’s very unfortunate passing… (but of course, they are a news platform, that’s what they are built to do).

But wait, what is it I see here?
The Telegraph, this platform for discourse, has disabled their comments section?!

The Telegraph, one of the chief propagators of the investigations into, nay, lacerations of Arday…

Did he deserve it; did he not? The jury, one can say, is still out…

But this same news platform, The Telegraph, tells us that it, an institution, being unlike Arday; an artificial person, being unlike Arday; a whole team of people, not one lone man; being unlike Arday, of sound mind, of an artificial, not a natural, mind; being unlike Arday, powerful in its reach; unlike Arday, having existed for centuries, not just four decades; this institution called The Telegraph, in posting news of Arday’s death, and expecting the commenters to arrive in their numbers, pointing, wagging their fingers in accusations, “You, with the full force of your institutional resources and vast platform, have bullied the poor man into his death!” This is what the commenters were headed to tell The Telegraph, right in the face…

So, what does this institution do?
It cowers?!
It places an embargo on freedom of speech when this freedom is to be exercised against them?!

It disables its comment section?!
What are YOU talking about, The Telegraph?!

What in hell’s name do you mean?
You mean to tell me that this 171-year-old institution cannot take the vitriol that it sent this lone 41-year-old man’s way?

This institution whose staff strength reads almost like its founding year… born in the year 1855, its god-like motto created in 1858, and having presently a staff strength of 1,858, this institution cannot take the vilification it enabled towards Arday?

This institution cannot take, not even for just a day, these lacerations it sent Arday’s way week upon week?!

You mean to tell me that The Telegraph posts news of Arday’s demise today (because it still wants to profit from the clicks), and immediately, this same day, closes its comment section for fear of what? Of chatter? Of freedom of speech? Of lacerations?

The Telegraph, this same institution whose motto reads like God’s Herself: “was, is, and will be”. An institution having such a profound motto, borrowed from Jesus Himself: “Jesus Christ the same yesterday, today, and for ever”. You mean to tell me that this institution, this god, cannot take the freedom of expression, of speech, the feedback, the lacerations, that the mere mortal, Arday, was expected to take?!

What are YOU talking about, The Telegraph?!

Friends, humans, global citizens, lend me your ears! [again, borrowed from Caesar’s friend, Marc]

I come to praise journalism, not to bury it.

But see, many rascals have for years, hidden behind the veil, the rights, the protection afforded them by this fourth arm of democracy to bully, to perpetuate hatred, prejudice, and all other forms of vice against other humans of all shapes and sizes, of all colours and creeds.

And it is always difficult to differentiate the good from the bad, for we each have our individual biases so it makes objective judgements difficult. After all, one person’s freedom fighter is often another’s terrorist, is it not?

So, what option have we but to allow all rights to be exercised, so far as these rights are approved and provided for? Hence, freedom of speech, freedom of expression it is. Prejudice, hatred, or not, freedom of expression it is. Was Arday grievously guilty; was he innocent? The Telegraph and the likes of it had every right to investigate. For The Telegraph, like many of its kind, is an honourable institution [still borrowing from Antony here].

That is why one ought to find it grievously shocking, nauseatingly hypocritical, that The Telegraph, as you and I speak, has its comment section, on the post regarding Jason Arday’s demise, turned off. I have placed here, as accompanying image, evidence of this hypocrisy for us all to see… Here, forever, in the canons of history… Lest The Telegraph, moved by this same hypocrisy and not reform, clandestinely decide to open it up later.

It is a brutal, brutish fault (pardon me, Brutus). This cowardly act is an unforgiving indictment of journalism, of the principles of freedom of speech and expression which the likes of The Telegraph claim to uphold. It renders me foolish, the weeks upon weeks I have spent in this dilemma; on one hand decrying the unforgiving vitriol sent Arday’s way; yet on the other, upholding, in my mind, the sanctity of the rights afforded these media houses to investigate, to speak… even while seeing, very blatantly displayed, the prejudice accompanying many of these so-called assertions of freedoms of speech on this matter. I tell you, The Telegraph, by this act, renders me completely foolish for suffering this dilemma.

For The Telegraph has shown that it faces no such dilemma. With the closure of its comments section, The Telegraph renders us fools, those who believe, and uphold unfailingly, this principle of freedom of speech, even when it is being weaponised as a tool against us. The jury may still be out on Arday, but it sure is in on The Telegraph.

The Telegraph, just like Arday, has shown that it CANNOT take it. Lacerations have just as fatal an effect on The Telegraph as they have on Arday. Who knew? Unfortunately for Arday, he did not have the same veil afforded the journalists of The Telegraph, the veil of incorporation.

I have a thought…
We ALL are journalists
I pray to the good God above that subalterns of all shapes and sizes, of all colours and creeds, never find in themselves and in society, reasons to lie about their lives so that pity may be granted them by the powerful, that they may be invited to dine at the table of the powerful. This is NOT a validation, on my part, of the indictment brought against Arday, for I maintain that I do not know the truths nor the sentiments and intentions behind the truths. Rather, it is an acknowledgement of the possibility of such a scenario playing out, not necessarily in Arday, but in the many marginalised people worldwide. It is the master’s table and the bread-crumb analogy, where the powerful, feeling guilty in their looted wealth, lend out tiny sympathy slots to the marginalised, causing the marginalised to battle it out, and causing in them, the temptation of heightening their misfortunes, with the hopes of beating out fellow marginalised folks for these tiny slots allowed by the powerful.

I pray to the good God above that subalterns worldwide see the patronage and brutishness in these breadcrumbs and avoid these temptations of playing the most pitiful.

But even more earnestly, I pray for all marginalised groups worldwide, the realisation that we, ALL, are in the end, journalists. The same freedom allowed the so-called journalist is allowed the ordinary folk too. The right to investigate, to write, even these lacerations, these bullying often disguised as journalism, it is afforded the subaltern too.

Hidden behind these institutions are people. So should you, a child of this soil, of Ghana, Africa, of all disadvantaged soils across the globe, find yourself in such a quagmire of journalistic lacerations, I pray for you the heavenly strength, this realisation that:

1. you TOO are a journalist;
2. hidden behind these media institutions are people. And that, just as The Telegraph has shown us, these institutions are, in fact, not able to take the heat they give; they are not able to take the same lacerations that they often mete out.

And in so realising, I pray for you (and me) the strength, when faced with such unwarranted vitriol, one seeking not truths as they often claim, but validation for their prejudices; prejudices informed by the need to mollify the pain that is their little, unremarkable existences… I pray for us the strength not to take our precious lives, but to take to the pen, go for the people hiding behind these institutions, and undertake some investigative journalism and writings of our own…

Because ultimately, judgement, it has fled to brutish beasts, and people have lost their reason. Being the victim does not stop the bully, it empowers them. Giving the bully a taste of their own medicine, on the other hand, it is the ultimate antidote. This saddens my heart, but it is only a fool who denies it.

Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Arday, journalism, and the likes of The Telegraph,

And I must pause till it come back to me…

Epilogue
And finally, I pray to the heavens above, that the publisher maintains my meticulous use of italics for cited quotes throughout this piece. Trusting them not to be that meticulous, I have often resorted to expositions in brackets here and there, which, to me, lose the effect intended.

Author’s Profile:
Yao Afra Yao
https://muckrack.com/yao-afra-yao

ATTEMPTED PROPHECIES
The left-handed writer and the right minds.

   Comments0