What would Jesus ban?

What is more offensive, a cartoon Jesus or the Advertising Standards Authority's decision to ban it?

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.

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The three avoidable mistakes that Theresa May has made in the Brexit negotiations

She ignored the official Leave campaign, and many Remainers, in pursuing Brexit in the way she has.

We shouldn’t have triggered Article 50 at all before agreeing an exit deal

When John Kerr, the British diplomat who drafted Article 50 wrote it, he believed it would only be used by “a dictatorial regime” that, having had its right to vote on EU decisions suspended “would then, in high dudgeon, want to storm out”.

The process was designed to maximise the leverage of the remaining members of the bloc and disadvantage the departing state. At one stage, it was envisaged that any country not ratifying the Lisbon Treaty would be expelled under the process – Article 50 is not intended to get “the best Brexit deal” or anything like it.

Contrary to Theresa May’s expectation that she would be able to talk to individual member states, Article 50 is designed to ensure that agreement is reached “de vous, chez vous, mais sans vous” – “about you, in your own home, but without you”, as I wrote before the referendum result.

There is absolutely no reason for a departing nation to use Article 50 before agreement has largely been reached. A full member of the European Union obviously has more leverage than one that is two years away from falling out without a deal. There is no reason to trigger Article 50 until you’re good and ready, and the United Kingdom’s negotiating team is clearly very far from either being “good” or “ready”.

As Dominic Cummings, formerly of Vote Leave, said during the campaign: “No one in their right mind would begin a legally defined two-year maximum period to conduct negotiations before they actually knew, roughly speaking, what the process was going to yield…that would be like putting a gun in your mouth and pulling the trigger.”

If we were going to trigger Article 50, we shouldn’t have triggered it when we did

As I wrote before Theresa May triggered Article 50 in March, 2017 is very probably the worst year you could pick to start leaving the European Union. Elections across member states meant the bloc was in a state of flux, and those elections were always going to eat into the time. 

May has got lucky in that the French elections didn’t result in a tricky “co-habitation” between a president of one party and a legislature dominated by another, as Emmanuel Macron won the presidency and a majority for his new party, République en Marche.

It also looks likely that Angela Merkel will clearly win the German elections, meaning that there won’t be a prolonged absence of the German government after the vote in September.

But if the British government was determined to put the gun in its own mouth and pull the trigger, it should have waited until after the German elections to do so.

The government should have made a unilateral offer on the rights of EU citizens living in the United Kingdom right away

The rights of the three million people from the European Union in the United Kingdom were a political sweet spot for Britain. We don’t have the ability to enforce a cut-off date until we leave the European Union, it wouldn’t be right to uproot three million people who have made their lives here, there is no political will to do so – more than 80 per cent of the public and a majority of MPs of all parties want to guarantee the rights of EU citizens – and as a result there is no plausible leverage to be had by suggesting we wouldn’t protect their rights.

If May had, the day she became PM, made a unilateral guarantee and brought forward legislation guaranteeing these rights, it would have bought Britain considerable goodwill – as opposed to the exercise of fictional leverage.

Although Britain’s refusal to accept the EU’s proposal on mutually shared rights has worried many EU citizens, the reality is that, because British public opinion – and the mood among MPs – is so sharply in favour of their right to remain, no one buys that the government won’t do it. So it doesn’t buy any leverage – while an early guarantee in July of last year would have bought Britain credit.

But at least the government hasn’t behaved foolishly about money

Despite the pressure on wages caused by the fall in the value of the pound and the slowdown in growth, the United Kingdom is still a large and growing economy that is perfectly well-placed to buy the access it needs to the single market, provided that it doesn’t throw its toys out of the pram over paying for its pre-agreed liabilities, and continuing to pay for the parts of EU membership Britain wants to retain, such as cross-border policing activity and research.

So there’s that at least.

Stephen Bush is special correspondent at the New Statesman. His daily briefing, Morning Call, provides a quick and essential guide to domestic and global politics.

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