Reductio Ad Cringe

Alt Title: Hadestown, Optimistic Futility, and Discrimination

You walk along that path, sandwiched between dorms and an oddly empty field. You wipe some sweat off your forehead. Oh, that bloody midday sun. Fucking hell, it's only November as well.

You walk by someone. They're walking in the opposite direction, presumably having just finished a class. They're on their phone, talking to someone, and you inadvertently hear

"Yeah, I just finished class; you know the one where the group's homophobic and racist"

Presumably, they didn't say semicolon aloud.

***

Recently, as I was browsing through the forums that I had visited as a bored kid in maths class, I stumbled upon a transgender thread. In it, a transgender person challenged supporters to ask their family members and friends this question: "If I were transgender, how would you feel?"

Now, this is not a new question; it was and will continue to be used when the rights of homosexual people are in question; it was, and will continue to be used when the rights of disabled people are in question.

However, when I read it, I brushed it aside. I thought, "(hypothetically), if I ask my parents or friends that, it would be quite ridiculous."

Now, in hindsight, this is clearly indicative of implicit biases. Doubtless, there are real transgender people asking their parents this very question. Doubtless, their parents' response will have an enormous impact on how they see themselves.

So, when I brush off that question as ridiculous, I am revealing my implicit biases. What, are transgender people ridiculous? Are their experiences, the way they live through this world, are they ridiculous? Are their experiences lesser or inferior to that of a cisgender person?

Of course not.

Ask me that question directly, and I will answer "no". But through these exercises, we can shed light unto our implicit biases. Biases that will affect how we view other people, and ultimately, how we treat them.

And these biases, they're not singular biases. They have layers. Like an ogre. Or an onion. They are built up by our environment. They are multifaceted. And ultimately, they will affect how we treat, how we talk to, and how we affect others (unless you seclude yourself on an island).

A further example of implicit biases. It is a fact that most Indigenous Australians live in urban or regional areas. Yet through their portrayal in the media, through the emphasis on remote communities (which is not to say that we shouldn't listen to the stories of those who live in remote areas), an image of a poor, remote, Indigenous Australian has formed.

And what are those Indigenous Australians depicted as? Well, they drink, they sniff petrol, they have bad habits, they're a lost cause.

What nonsense.

But these portrayals, and these implicit biases have real impacts on how we move forward as a society. Even the most good-hearted of intentions are undone by these biases. We have implemented in some areas a cashless welfare scheme, that those on the scheme have a certain amount of credit to spend on approved items; a social credit system, if you will.

And one can see the reasoning behind it. If Indigenous Australians drink, then removing their ability to purchase alcohol will surely reduce their drinking problems.

The only issue?

It's built on a faulty premise. It removes agency and autonomy from the very people we are trying to help. The very fact that it's a top down approach, the very fact that we are trying to help in such a manner is flawed.

In trying to become saviours, we have become little more than neo-colonialists. Our biases have once again shot us in the foot. We claim to want to bring everyone to the table, but in the end, we're sending the oppressed back to the children's table.

One more example, for its own sake. When I went to high school, the arts, well, they were a joke. In an academically selective school, the arts, they were looked down upon. You'd hear jokes:

"What do you want to do in uni?"

"An arts degree, lmao"

Our parents, our family members, members of our community, they'd stress the importance of getting a good job. A real job. Whatever that means. And that spread to us. 50% of the school said that they wanted to study medicine. Almost the entirety of my cohort now studies a STEM subject. Hurrah to the real jobs. But in reality? Art contributes to the economy as much as STEM fields. Art employs people, entertains people, moves people. And before anyone says "well, you're just an arts student hyping up art courses." I'm studying med, damnit.

I've said this to my friend, and I'll say it again. The greatest dream of them all is when doctors will finally be able to put down their instruments. The obsolescence of this proud profession is the ultimate dream. But as for art, we cannot say the same for artists. They must never put down their instruments.

So how does the musical Hadestown play into this? Now, Hadestown isn't explicitly about these biases, and the resultant acts of discrimination. It's about the struggle to form a better world, a world where there's enough to go around for everyone. It's about the walls we build around ourselves. But ultimately, it is about daring to hope. Daring to hope that something will change. Daring to hope that maybe, just maybe, we will finally get a happy ending. Daring to hope in the face of institutions far stronger than any individual, and social structures far larger than any community. In that sense, this optimistic futility, this desire to tell tragedies in the hope it will be different, is a very modern sensibility. A very metamodern sensibility. The oscillations between hope and despair, the oscillations between a dogged refusal to accept our social contract, and the ironic detachment from this unspoken law, these are the hallmarks of our age.

And so we gaze at these nefarious biases. We may never rid ourselves of these perfidious thoughts entirely. We may never exorcise these blemishes. Our good intentions may forever be stained by biases. But ultimately, what matters, what helps people, what enables us to move forward, is to recognise these biases. It is to examine ourselves, our thoughts, our actions, and from them, to struggle against these biases wherever they may appear.

In our lifetimes, we may not achieve equity amongst the Indigenous peoples of Australia, the first peoples of this continent. In our lifetimes, we may not achieve equity for disabled people, transgender people, homosexual people. These may just be ideals, these may just be cries into the void.

But these ideals, are they not beautiful ideals? And these cries, do they not resonate ever so clearly?

Modernism failed us in its promise of an utopia, a shifting formless land, where those who are left behind are forgotten. Postmodernism failed us in claiming an end to history, that everything has been accomplished. Utopia has been delayed indefinitely.

But now, lo and behold! Postmodernism is dead! We now must drive towards utopia, confident that we will never reach it. We must approach the next day, regardless of its apparent futility. We shall wander the desert, hoping for paradise, knowing that these 40 years may span an eternity.

These biases may colour our thoughts, may force us to strike our brothers and sisters down. We must not stand down. We must struggle. We must dare to hope. For there is no alternative.

Long live Sisyphus!