Not All Babies

Or, how I don't want to get arrested for quoting Miss Rachel.

Yesterday, a woman was arrested here in Queensland for wearing a shirt with the slogan: “From the River to the Sea.” This slogan has been designated hate-speech, punishable by as much as two years in prison, and — here’s why I mention it — I didn’t know anything about any of this until, roughly, today.

Unlike North Americans, Australians don’t have freedoms of speech backed by a constitution, so a person can get into all sorts of trouble here, saying the wrong thing. Which is particularly concerning for people like myself, who somehow feel they are always saying things that are wrong. Although some say that this tendency of mine is one of my finer qualities, so I really don’t know what to do, frankly.

Back in the 1980s, here in Australia, a local singer celebrity named John Farnham put out a song called Two Strong Hearts. It was like Australia’s Hotel California, in the sense that it was as unavoidable as head lice. You simply could not get away from it. But I mention it specifically because of this one unfortunate line that recurs quite a bit:

“Reaching out forever like a river to the sea ... running free.”

So, here’s the issue; whenever I saw the phrase about Rivers and the Seas on stickers, or t-shirts or as graffiti, I naturally assumed they were referencing some awfully-overplayed John Farnham song from the 80s, and paid no attention whatsoever, because — now, let’s be fair — it wasn’t the best piece of music, was it?

You probably don’t know the song I mean, unless you grew up here. But every country in the world has a catalog of music which, collectively, nobody wants to hear ever again, for the rest of their lives. Years ago, I was listening to Radio Ö3 in Austria (pronounced RAH-dee-o Err Dry) with some locals, and they kept complaining, ‘This song again!’ And I’d never have even heard the song before. The lyrics were in English but it was clearly Austria’s very own Two Strong Hearts. It’s interesting, isn’t it, how some English or American bands can do unexpectedly well in certain foreign countries, while being almost unknown back home?

Now I think about it, my friend Andy is in a band like that. At one point, he was touring across Europe every year and playing massive sold-out venues. Their music is, or was, at least, pretty famous in Turkey and in Germany. One of my German friends went to their concert, and was astonished to discover I even knew Andy, let alone had had lunch with him, at work, almost every day for about eight years.

Much to their credit, Andy’s band didn’t go in for controversial lyrics. The same can’t be said for John Farnham, of course, who is borderline-at-best, even though he wrote that song back in the 1980s, before all this river and sea controversy was even a thing.

I am not absolutely certain that I’m even allowed to quote the relevant lyrics in his music any more, at least here in Queensland. It was only two lines about a river and the sea, but I’m not looking to cause trouble with anyone.

How does this make me feel? Well, it’s a bit like finding out that you’re no longer permitted to say, ‘Welcome to the Hotel California’. You feel a bit mixed about it, all of a sudden, and glad, perhaps, you don’t work in that specific hotel which I seem to remember passing in San Francisco one day. I also feel somewhat relieved, because there are, after all, only so many times a man should be forced to listen to the Eagles. And the other thing I feel, seeing as you asked, is a little bit confused about just about everything that is happening in the world. But I think a lot of people might relate to me, there — especially those who are in charge.

As oppressive as that particular song is, to my ears, what I will say is that it has nothing to do with genocide. I just checked, just to be thorough, I read the lyrics in full — and yes, it hurt my brain to do so. It felt precisely like I was reading the lyrics to Stairway to Heaven, which happens to be another excellent song I hope never to hear again.

I’m not sure this is still the case — admittedly, I’m terribly busy with other things and not paying close attention — but I used to think, at least, that every generation has at least half-a-dozen songs that have been played too much, too often, or too incessantly, to the point that millions of people now dread to hear their opening chords.

Then there are songs like Hotel California by the Eagles, which was played non-stop on the radio for approximately three entire generations. Or, Hound Dog, which we must resign ourselves to the fact it will be played every day, from now until the heat death of the universe.

Whenever I walk in public places, I wear earphones. Usually, I’m not listening to anything, I’m simply muting the background noise. Specifically, I try to block the music from other eras which corporations refuse to let us forget. Because grocery shopping requires a corporate-approved soundtrack, you see. You need to buy carrots? Here’s some song you never wanted to hear again. Oh, and should you think I’m exaggerating, the last time I heard that song I mentioned, Two Strong Hearts, with that recurring line about the river and the sea? Tuesday, while I was buying carrots. My theory? Noise-cancelling headphone manufacturers are paying kickbacks to every supermarket in Australia.

Of course, we should appreciate that all our overplayed music has been composed by humans. One day, the music we’ll be forced to endure whilst grocery shopping will be generated by artificial intelligence, simply because it’ll be cheaper to produce, and because that way corporations can skirt the licensing fees. Even worse, the lyrics will somehow concern themselves with the quality of carrots, now on sale.

Frankly, I find the possibilities of Large Language Models to be rather exciting and interesting. I don’t use AI to write — for me, that would be like building a robot to windsurf — but I do use it to check my code whenever I’m programming. I use AI to spellcheck my emails, if the email feels particularly important (not that that ever seems to be the case, anymore). I find the subject of AI fascinating, because I write things and I think about things, and we live in an interesting age, despite what the corporations are trying to do to us. The problem with AI isn’t that it exists; it’s how it will be used against us, obviously. Anyone reading this who thinks that corporations won’t use artificial intelligence to make our lives more drab and futile and uninteresting is, frankly, entirely out to lunch.

As I said above, one day all the music they’ll play in shopping malls will be AI-generated. And worse, it’ll contain all sorts of subliminal messages about ongoing sales. AI can clearly be put to good use; it’s just that I fear it will not. Corporations should be kept as far away from AI as humanly possible — and they won’t be. This fact alone constitutes our own collective tragedy.

Let’s break the tension a little, and reflect for a moment upon this picture of an otter with her baby. Marvelous creatures, otters.

Where was I? Right. My point is that I am technically not allowed to type the phrase: ‘From the River to the Sea’ here in Queensland. I think. I typed those words only to warn others in this locality, so they do not inadvertently break the law.

Also, as I mentioned, I only recently found out about all this. These words, connecting a river to a sea, are often cited as a slogan by people who seem to feel that genocide is a bad thing. But what we have learned, of course, is that genocide is a bad thing unless the genocide is conducted by an approved nation state. In short, and in Australia at least, some genocide is officially sanctioned in foreign countries, but not all countries, obviously; that would be barbaric. And furthermore, you are not to speak in support of all the victims of ethnic cleansing or else you can face up to two years in prison[1]. Though you should obviously speak up in support of some victims of ethnic cleansing; that is, after all, the humane thing to do.

Suddenly, I’m reminded that a popular children’s educator and entertainer in the United States named Miss Rachel was condemned by many when she posted on Instagram that: “Babies shouldn’t starve to death — staying silent is the real crime.”

She was quickly accused of spreading hate speech. Not all babies’ lives matter, some said, or at least words to that effect. I don’t know; again, I’m new to the topic. I doubt that I am legally permitted to quote Miss Rachel while residing here, in Queensland. The consensus among local authorities seems to be, approximately, that not all babies should be starved to death — again, that would be silly — but some might be; it all depends specifically upon who is starving those babies.

And this obviously presents itself as a troubling dilemma for law-abiding parents like myself who simply want to expose their children to the correct, legally-mandated views concerning the safety of infants.

Miss Rachel elsewhere wrote:

“I care deeply for all children. Palestinian children, Israeli children, children in the US – Muslim, Jewish, Christian children – all children, in every country. Not one is excluded.”

I’m unsure whether I am permitted to outwardly agree. Obviously, and from the point of view of Queensland’s elected officials, this is a vexing issue. Remember, you can receive two years in prison simply for saying something about a river and the sea, here. Or wearing a shirt with those words.

Anyway, I have to keep this newsletter short. I have a rather strongly-worded email to write today, addressed to the CEOs of Australia’s two main grocery chains, concerning the use of hate speech in the lyrics of songs they play in their produce sections.

Oh, come on, people, I’m joking. I would never write an email like that. No, that is definitely something I would have an AI write for me.

With chaste affection,

Kris St.Gabriel