Not a dry eye in the house
The
Crying
Game I
Kenneth Roy on the popular taste for emotional outbursts
The first witnesses in the trial of Amanda Knox, the American student accused of murder in Italy, testified to her strange behaviour after the violent death of her friend, Meredith Kercher. She seemed oblivious both to the shocking events in the house they shared and to the peril of her own situation as one of the more obvious suspects. Observers noted with disapproval that, far from exhibiting the usual symptoms of grief, she was kissing her boyfriend and uttering sweet nothings in his ear. It was not long before both found themselves remanded in prison facing 30 years if convicted.
Amanda Knox may have murdered Meredith Kercher. Who knows? Such is the stately progress of Italian justice, we may be looking at Christmas before a verdict is reached. But the early evidence has not inspired confidence in the outcome. The response to her friend’s murder could indicate that ‘Foxy Knoxy’ was traumatised or stoned; or that she is simply a bit of an oddball. What it does not signify is guilt – except in the minds of those, a growing number, who demand nothing less than a public exhibition of emotion when emotion appears to be what is called for. If Foxy Knoxy had wanted to do herself a big favour with the crowd, she would have turned on the waterworks and smudged her pretty face.
A few years ago, there was the curious case of two English backpackers in Australia. When the young man went missing in the bush, suspicion fell on his girlfriend. There was no evidence to link her with his disappearance – a man has subsequently been convicted of his abduction and murder – but this was another case where a young woman failed to cry in public. She was judged not to have spoken of her boyfriend warmly enough. It would have been absurd to deduce from this that the woman had murdered her boyfriend, yet the suspicion lingered and a television programme came close to incriminating her by innuendo. Her crime was never murder. Her crime was simply an absence of emotion, a reluctance to play the crying game.
In contrast, the scheming Karen Matthews, whose daughter’s staged disappearance was a cause celebre for a while, put up an Oscar-winning performance as the sorrowful mother, clutching a teddy bear as she faced the cameras. How she wept! But her copious tears proved nothing. She was as guilty as sin and is now in the early weeks of an eight-year prison sentence.
Sharon Shoesmith, the former head of children’s services in the London Borough of Haringey, has not been on trial for the murder of Baby P (could they not have given the poor child a name? even a fictitious one would have been more dignified), although sometimes it has felt as if she were. Her original crime was professional negligence for not ensuring that the child was taken into care. That seemed fair enough. But then the charge sheet was widened to include the same indictment facing ‘Foxy Knoxy’ – a want of feeling in her public utterances and demeanour.
‘If anything, what I was doing was working hard not to break down,’ she said last week. The unforgiving crowd is reluctant to accept this reasonable explanation for her apparent heartlessness. She has been bombarded with death threats; one deranged individual calls her at 5am every day with suggestions on how to kill herself. The police have warned her to stay away from platforms on the London underground in case someone pushes her off. Ms Shoesmith has contemplated suicide.
The popular taste for loose emotion has never been greater; it may have begun with the death of the Princess of Wales and it shows no sign of receding into a decent reticence. At his news conference yesterday, the Prime Minister was invited to express sympathy for a terminally ill private individual. He could, should, have declined to do it – Miss Goody’s illness is of no public interest or concern – but even the Prime Minister must play the crying game or face accusations that he is emotionally cold, which he may well be anyway, but that is beside the point.
The disgraced bankers issued a public apology before the ‘show trial’ in the House of Commons last week, but the chairman of the committee, John McFall, was unimpressed. Later in the hearing he accused them of being disingenuous in their contrition and acting on the advice of their PR people. What next? Must Goodwin and his mates, on their next appearance in public, go much further, borrow teddy bears for the occasion, and take lessons in how to apologise in a more convincing manner?
[click here] for The Crying Game II
The Weekend Review
LOSS
AND
IDEALISM
THE HOLE IN
MY LIFE
Dunblane parent Mick North on the loss of his daughter
[click here]
Thirteen years on, young people in Scotland are fighting for a better world. In this edition we celebrate some of their work
THE YOUNG IDEALISTS
Photo essay by Islay McLeod
[click here]
THE POVERTY FIGHTERS
Barbara Millar and Nick Henderson on Youth End Poverty
[click here]
THE MAN WHO NURTURED TALENT
Kenneth Roy
on Arnold Kemp
[click here]
The Scottish Review is published on Tuesday and Thursday. The next edition will be on Tuesday 10 March
The Scottish Review is proud
to be associated with the
Arnold
Kemp
Awards
The awards in his memory are given each year for outstanding work in the community by young people
Today we announce the results of the 2009 awards with profiles of the winners and runners-up
