Religion 7 September 2011 What would Jesus ban? What is more offensive, a cartoon Jesus or the Advertising Standards Authority's decision to ban it? Print HTML In 2006, during the run-up to Christmas, the Grocer magazine ran an advert for the Big Prawn Company. The ad featured a Nativity scene, but with the traditional baby Jesus replaced by an edible crustacean. The slogan read, "A King is born. Order now to ensure a Christmas delivery". Twenty-eight people complained. The Advertising Standards Authority rejected the complaints, accepting that the scenario "would be seen as light-hearted by most readers of The Grocer" and was thus "unlikely to cause serious or widespread offence." In 2011, just before Easter, the Metro carried an ad for the mobile company Phones 4U. It featured a winking, thumbs-up Jesus and the slogan "Miraculous deals on Samsung Galaxy AndroidTM phones". Almost a hundred people complained. This time, the ASA has rejected the company's (admittedly absurd) contention that the image presented "a light-hearted, positive and contemporary image of Christianity relevant to the Easter weekend." Instead, the regulator concludes that the adverts "gave the impression that they were mocking and belittling core Christian beliefs", "were disrespectful" and "were likely to cause serious offence, particularly to Christians". Clearly something has changed. There were more complaints about the second ad, but given the much larger circulation of the Metro compared to the Grocer, not enough to indicate that widespread offence had been caused. Indeed, the ASA does not usually take the number of complaints it receives into account at all, even when judging whether an advertisement is likely to cause "serious and widespread offence". Nor is it obvious why depicting Jesus as a prawn -- and the use of a non-kosher foodstuff seems especially inappropriate given Christ's Jewish background -- should be considered less offensive than a smiling, recognisably human cartoon-character offering "miraculous" deals on mobile phones. Both images are somewhat crass and likely to offend the humourless. But neither poses a serious threat to the fundamentals of the Christian faith. It also strikes me as somewhat over-the-top of the ASA to claim that the image of Jesus emplyed in the Phones 4U ad was "mocking and belittling core Christian beliefs". The cartoon Jesus may have been based ultimately on the Roman Catholic icongraphy of the Sacred Heart. Its immediate source, however, is to be found in the 1999 film Dogma, in which a marketing-obsessed cardinal introduces the figure of a winking, thumbs-up "Buddy Christ" as an antidote to the "wholly depressing" crucifix. "Buddy Christ" figurines and tee-shirts remain on sale, and the film, far from being banned, is shown regularly on Channel 4. The similarity between the Phones 4U advert and the Buddy Christ figure, moreover, is no accident: the one is clearly derived from the other and the cartoon would make little sense to anyone unfamiliar with the film. It's likely that the Big Prawn complaint would have been decided differently today. In the past few years, the ASA has been taking an increasingly strict, some would say humourless, line on suggestions of religious offensiveness. It has, for example, banned a series of ice-cream adverts featuring pregnant nuns and gay priests, and even one for curling-tongs which employed the slogan, "a new religion for hair". One of the adverts deemed likely to cause "serious or widespread offence" triggered a mere six complaints. The decision led the National Secualar Society to accuse the ASA of surreptitiously re-introducing the blasphemy law. At the very least, the ASA seems to have an alarmingly low threshold as to what constitutes "offence" where religion is concerned. An advert, it seems, need not be objectively outrageous; it's enough that someone somewhere might potentially take exception to it. The ASA's code, it is true, states that "particular care must be taken to avoid causing offence on the grounds of race, religion, gender, sexual orientation, disability or age." But it does not explain why this should be necessary, and it's hard to see why advertising should be subjected to restraints that would be considered intolerable in literature, film, art or even television. Does it matter that the ASA is now over-protective of the supposed sensibilities of believers, the great majority of whom will at most have been mildly irritated? Perhaps not to the phone company concerned, for whom today's ruling will provide a welcome shot of free publicity. But advertising is not purely commercial. It is also public art. Its ubiquity makes it the most pervasive modern art-form, with an influence on public consciousness and the popular culture going far beyond the product being sold. The best adverts provoke thought and debate, comment on and contribute to the world we live in, and stay in people's memories long after the product being pushed has been forgotten. Banning an advert robs people of the opportunity to have their thoughts provoked by it. Potentially it impoverishes culture. The ASA should realise that it owes greater duty to society as a whole than to the unrepresentative and eccentric handful who take the trouble to complain. › Gilbey on Film: Against orthodoxy Belief, disbelief and beyond belief More Related articles At the Independent leaving do, some ex-editors were looking surprisingly cheerful The plight of Business Secretary Sajid Javid, who flew all the way to Australia just to fly back again Why Francis wants to be the first social media-friendly Pope
Show Hide image Sport 3 April 2016 In every beach bar on the planet, there’s a lone man watching the Prem In the four different places I stayed, on Saturdays and Sundays, I was able to walk to a sports bar and watch a live game, any live Prem game of my choice. Print HTML One of the things that the Prem is always boasting about is how many trillions it makes, from Sky and BT rights, shirt sponsorship from betting and financial firms with funny initials, selling repro tops, allowing lavatory paper companies to claim that they are official partners, and flogging coverage of games to every country on the globe. I groan and sigh when I read about the latest deal: why doesn’t it help the poor fans, eh, by lowering ticket prices or satellite subscription fees? During my three weeks abroad, trying to escape the horrors of probate, I failed to buy a British newspaper, though I did watch the BBC World Service in one of the apartments I rented. The TV was stuck in a corner on top of a wardrobe and when I did climb up to see anything, it was total rubbish. I think the BBC World Service must be the most annoying channel in the world. It just repeats adverts for itself, all day long. At one posh hotel, Cobblers Cove in Barbados, I got a four-page digest of the British news at breakfast, which was quaint. The football reports had obviously been sub-edited by some West Indian fan brought up on 1950s English football comics, for in every line there was a reference to the Toffees, the Irons, the Magpies, the Baggies, nicknames we fans still know but nobody ever uses. In the four different places I stayed, on Saturdays and Sundays, I was able to walk to a sports bar and watch a live game, any live Prem game of my choice. They seemed to have access to every one, unlike back home, where you have to watch what you are given. So, hurrah for the Prem, or whoever sells its wares round every corner of the globe. On the other hand, in every bar, there were never more than two people watching the game, including me. So the vast figures for the Prem’s global reach may be true but I doubt that the actual audiences are all that impressive. In Speightstown, Barbados, I watched football at the Fisherman’s Pub – where 20 years ago the other person watching it with me was Mick McCarthy, who had just become manager of Ireland. “I wasn’t a good player,” he told me at half-time, “but I knew how to stop good players playing.” On Bequia in the Grenadines, I watched games at Papa’s in Port Elizabeth and at La Plage in Lower Bay, which is right on the beach. At half-time, I swam in the Caribbean, then came back for another rum punch. I may have been on my own, crouching in a corner watching English soccer, but the bars were generally full of local people, shouting and laughing, pushing and shoving, banging their dominoes. Whenever the game started dragging, I found myself listening to their chat, to the pretend rows, the colourful stories, the studied insults. In the streets in the English-speaking West Indies, you never hear swear words, as you never did in Carlisle in the 1950s, but in pubs, it is f***ing this and f***ing that, just like at cabinet meetings or among any other enclosed group of English speakers. “She read the Bible as if she f***ing wrote it,” said one to another, clearly having just come from church. Some other local phrases I found hard, if not impossible, to translate. For instance: “Easy squeeze, make no riot.” What did that mean? Compliant victims do not complain? “If better can’t be done, let worse continue.” I overheard this in St Vincent, where people were arguing about local politics, which is in the usual awful mess, but it might have been a cynical statement about the general human condition. If so, it could be seen as a vaguely positive observation – don’t commit suicide, just carry on. I started writing down all of these overheard remarks, thinking I’ll amuse my wife with them when I get home, forgetting for a moment – which, alas, I still do all the time – that she is dead. But they proved a good distraction in foreign fields, along with watching English football. Hunter Davies’s memoir “The Co-op’s Got Bananas!” is published by Simon & Schuster on 7 April Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman. This article first appeared in the 31 March 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The terror trail More Related articles The growing politicisation of Indian cricket Cristiano Ronaldo’s approach to fatherhood is a victory for male supremacy Chris Robshaw – and why being a good follower is every bit as important as being a good leader