A (gay) kiss is just a kiss

The self-appointed guardians of media "decency" go after Adam Lambert

At this year's American Music Awards (22 November), Adam Lambert, the openly gay American Idol star, shared an on-stage kiss with a male keyboardist. According to the BBC News website the incident -- if you can call it that -- received more than 1,500 complaints, and the show was roundly dismissed as "vulgar" by the self-appointed US media watchdog Parents Television Council (PTC).

But Lambert was right when, interviewed after the performance, he described the resultant furore as "a form of discrimination": "I feel like women performers have been pushing the envelope sexually for the past 20 years, and all of a sudden, a male does it and everybody goes: 'Oh, we can't show that on TV.'"

The kiss itself was fleeting, and a small part of the sexually-charged performance delivered by the pop star (which included far raunchier skits, such as dragging a woman across the stage by her leg). In a CNN report on the controversy, Jo Piazza accuses Lambert of "focusing on the shock factor", while Janell Snowden, a VH1 news host, recalls how she "dropped [her] jaw when [she] saw that whole display of sexuality".

I doubt too many jaws would have dropped if Lambert had kissed a woman. It's a dispiriting reminder of the double standards that still exist when it comes to on-screen representations of sexuality: tacky but acceptable when it's Britney and Madonna (or Madonna and anybody), but somehow "shocking" when it's Adam and keyboard-man-with-hairdo.

The opinions of the PTC, meanwhile, should be taken with a pinch of salt. The council was set up as an offshoot of the Media Research Centre under the guidance of arch conservative Brent Bozell, who once complained about "leftist views" in "prime-time programmes" (yawn). In 2004, Mediaweek reported that 99 per cent of the 1.1 million indecency complaints that were received by the US Federal Communications Commission (FCC) originated from PTC members -- hardly a representative swathe of the telly-watching population. I can only guess how many of the 1,500 complaints lodged over Lambert's show were sent from the outboxes of "outraged" PTC mums and dads.

Yo Zushi is a sub-editor of the New Statesman. His work as a musician is released by Eidola Records.

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Jeremy Corbyn's Labour conference speech shows how he's grown

The leader's confident address will have impressed even his fiercest foes. 

It is not just Jeremy Corbyn’s mandate that has been improved by his re-election. The Labour leader’s conference speech was, by some distance, the best he has delivered. He spoke with far greater confidence, clarity and energy than previously. From its self-deprecating opening onwards ("Virgin Trains assure me there are 800 empty seats") we saw a leader improved in almost every respect. 

Even Corbyn’s firecest foes will have found less to take issue with than they may have anticipated. He avoided picking a fight on Trident (unlike last year), delivered his most forceful condemnation of anti-Semitism (“an evil”) and, with the exception of the Iraq war, avoided attacks on New Labour’s record. The video which preceded his arrival, and highlighted achievements from the Blair-Brown years, was another olive branch. But deselection, which Corbyn again refused to denounce, will remain a running sore (MPs alleged that Hillsborough campaigner Sheila Coleman, who introduced Corbyn, is seeking to deselect Louise Ellman and backed the rival TUSC last May).

Corbyn is frequently charged with lacking policies. But his lengthy address contained several new ones: the removal of the cap on council borrowing (allowing an extra 60,000 houses to be built), a ban on arms sales to abusive regimes and an arts pupil premium in every primary school.

On policy, Corbyn frequently resembles Ed Miliband in his more radical moments, unrestrained by Ed Balls and other shadow cabinet members. He promised £500bn of infrastructure investment (spread over a decade with £150bn from the private sector), “a real living wage”, the renationalisation of the railways, rent controls and a ban on zero-hours contracts.

Labour’s greatest divisions are not over policy but rules, strategy and culture. Corbyn’s opponents will charge him with doing far too little to appeal to the unconverted - Conservative voters most of all. But he spoke with greater conviction than before of preparing for a general election (acknowledging that Labour faced an arithmetical “mountain”) and successfully delivered the attack lines he has often shunned.

“Even Theresa May gets it, that people want change,” he said. “That’s why she stood on the steps of Downing Street and talked about the inequalities and burning injustices in today’s Britain. She promised a country: ‘that works not for a privileged few but for every one of us’. But even if she manages to talk the talk, she can’t walk the walk. This isn’t a new government, it’s David Cameron’s government repackaged with progressive slogans but with a new harsh right-wing edge, taking the country backwards and dithering before the historic challenges of Brexit.”

After a second landslide victory, Corbyn is, for now, unassailable. Many MPs, having voted no confidence in him, will never serve on the frontbench. But an increasing number, recognising Corbyn’s immovability, speak once again of seeking to “make it work”. For all the ructions of this summer, Corbyn’s speech will have helped to persuade them that they can.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.