OPINION
I have an opinion. Here it is: an opinion is a virus that lives in the human mouth. Permit me, an actual doctor, to explain.
Ahem. When the human brain is occupied for some hours with no thought but “I’m rather important”, the mouth virus will activate. It is at this point that the patient is in danger of having what we doctors call “an opinion”. Infected persons must stay away from television cameras lest they suffer mouth outbreak of this Sunrise type: “Just like the first Stolen Generation where a lot of children were taken because it was for their wellbeing, we need to do it again.”
Why can't these people just be happy they have a nice job and a hairdresser at work every morning?
Now that I have offered my medical opinion, I am free to tell you that I am not a doctor. In fact, a single human biology teacher failed me in years 7, 8 and 9, so if one can be the opposite of a doctor, then that is what I am. Still. Opinions. Someone has to diagnose them. And in the case of the previous example, several someones really did.
The widespread public reaction to the Sunrise program last week was not “an opinion”. It was reasonable treatment for some very unreasonable speech. No one said, “You must not talk.” Instead, a mass said, “You clearly have no idea what you’re talking about.” Sunrise. It’s not a real doctor.
Programs of the Sunrise type rarely call on doctors, academics, activists or persons who can claim to be expert in anything but feeling rather important. This would be fine if the program were renamed the I’m Rather Important Hour and all pretence of journalism dropped. No news. No weather. No effort by Samantha Armytage to be any less entertaining than she was on Dancing With the Stars. Perhaps she could reprise those memorable steps with the Cash Cow. Perhaps Kochie could enjoy a nice break at a tropical resort. He must need a little Kochie-time after Tuesday’s task of half apologising to all insulted viewers.
Kochie sounded like he meant well, but well-meaning was precisely the wrong tone to take.
Things didn’t start well. Kochie sounded like he meant well as he introduced the all-Indigenous, all-expert panel, but well-meaning was precisely the wrong tone to take. The all-white, all-inexpert panel of the previous week had been quite clear that they were very well-meaning. It was the children that they cared about, they said. Many non-Indigenous viewers learned a truth that day: the road to the stolen generation had been paved with white compassion.
“This morning, we’re bringing you a special edition of Hot Topics,” was Kochie’s promise. And, no, I’m not sure why it was “special’, either. Let’s say it was because Hot Topics was not on this occasion “hot”, but cool and reasonable. This is what can happen when a program welcomes guests who know what they’re talking about.
That this Hot Topics was “special” shows us that a program like Sunrise is far quicker to mean well than it could ever be to learn.
It’s entirely possible that this came as a surprise to Kochie. He may never have been on camera with people who have facts instead of opinions. It did seem that he was expecting the usual Hot Topics tempers, because he told us this issue was “emotional”.
Panellist Olga Havnen, a health services chief, did not appear at all emotional when she called for “intelligent, informed discussion” and the search for “solutions rather than the confected outrage and anger”. She echoed the sentiment of every viewer troubled not only by the very real possibility of another stolen generation, but by the countless hours of broadcast news lost to the opinion virus.
That this Hot Topics was “special”, or that anyone should be surprised that a person expert in child welfare would talk like an expert in child welfare, shows us that a program like Sunrise is far quicker to mean well than it could ever be to learn.
Why can't these people just be happy they have a nice job and a hairdresser at work every morning? Must they pretend to know things as well? Look. You want to publicly express an opinion you got from reading a headline? There's a place you can go. We call it Facebook. You want to do a nice breakfast telly job? Sit there and tell me about fat-free grilling, flower arranging, DIY or the things you argue about with your teenager.
But let’s try to teach them one more time: you non-news programs like Sunrise can talk your well-meaning talk. You can do it ‘til the Cash Cow comes home. You can have your opinions and shun all knowledge and talk and talk and talk. When the last of us has come to know that you have no idea what you’re talking about, not one of us will listen. You will no longer be important. But, you might find the time to truly think.
