Reflections on a day of reflection

The expression 'day of reflection' will always remind me of a cartoon by Gary Larson - creator of the astonishingly brilliant Far Side series - from the early 1990s.

I spent a good few hours last night searching every nook and cranny of the worldwide web to find a digital version I could upload for some Facebook entertainment. But no matter what combination of keywords I tried, I just couldn't track it down in the end (though the exercise was not entirely in vain: type 'far side cartoon' in your images search field and you'll see what I mean)

So I'm afraid I'm going to have to describe it to you myself. The picture was of a "vampire convention" - and just from that detail one already gets a remote glimpse of Gary Larson's unique comic genius - in which a bunch of vampires, all dolled up in the classic Dracula outfit made sensationally famous by Bela Lugosi in 1930, are standing around and engaging in small talk over a 'drink' (bearing in mind that 'vampires never drink... wine.')

Against the wall behind them is a HUGE gilt-framed mirror, in which the entire room appears in reflection. Because it is a vampires' convention - and because 'reflecting' is something else that vampires are supposed to 'never do' - one would naturally expect the mirror image to be devoid of vampire images.

But of course this is a Far Side cartoon, so literally anything becomes possible. And sure enough, standing in front of that mirror are two vampires, one of whom half whispers to the other: "Don't look now, but... you're reflecting!"

To date I can't put my finger exactly on what makes this cartoon so funny. But even all these years later, it still makes me chuckle.

Part of the humour is no doubt due to the expression on the 'reflecting' vampire's face. It is a mixture of shock and untold horror - which itself represents an amusing reversal of roles, given the subject's 'occupation' - combined with a sense of shame of mortification at having committed a social blunder.

The other vampires around him are talking in whispers and darting inquisitive looks from the corner of their eyes... just as would happen if, for instance, a wedding guest had too much to drink, jumped onto the nearest table and started stripping while singing Madonna's Like A Virgin at the top of his voice (not, of course, that I would have any experience of such shockingly immature behaviour myself...and any rumour you may have heard to the contrary is ALL LIES!) 

And this in turn forces us to view the same scene - the vampire scene, not the Madonna one - uniquely from a vampire's point of view. If vampires are not supposed to reflect in a mirror... how would one feel if its reflection did appear? Presumably, much the same as you or I would feel, if we were to unintentionally break wind very loudly at an inopportune moment (such as, for instance, halfway through a job interview, or during funeral oration).

In any case, we will never know the true answer. But then again, it's not exactly the sort of question one asks oneself every day; and for this reason alone - i.e., for making us think the unthinkable, and picture the unpicturable... even if only briefly, and possibly without even realizing it - I sincerely believe Gary Larson deserves a permanent place in the Hall of Undeniable Geniuses, alongside Albert Einstein, Charles Darwin, William Shakespeare, and Nina Simone.

Naturally there was another reason why I thought of that particular cartoon last Friday, and even unsuccessfully tried to put it out there in the public domain for all to see and marvel at.

Actually, there were two reasons. One was that the cartoon in itself illustrates the sheer nonsensicality of having a 'day of reflection' in the first place... while at the same time curiously underscoring why an idea which has so much working against it, actually makes sense in a weird and wonderfully 'Gary Larson' sort of way.

The second reason is that, just like that solitary vampire who 'broke the rules' (albeit unwittingly) - there was the usual posse of people who seem to think that THEIR political opinion just too darn important to keep to themselves even for a mere 24 hours before polling booths opened.

OK, now let's put those two considerations together and see what we come up with. Point of departure? Simple. Having a legally proscribed day in which to 'reflect' is patently ridiculous. You know, I know it, even Count Dracula knows it... and I need hardly tell you exactly why, either.

"Reflection" - at least, of the mental variety - is something one either does or does not do, depending on factors that cannot be made subject to legislation. One invariably 'reflects' on the messages one has received (or lessons one has learnt, or experiences one has experienced etc) as a matter of course... and if you're like me, half the time it will happen against your own better judgment, and a time when you're really supposed to be doing something else... such as, for instance, 'working'.

Certainly it is not something you can force people to do through legal imposition. For as Dorothy Parker so spectacularly put it once: 'You can take a horticulture, but you can't make her think." The same is true for voters. No amount of rules and regulations can force these people to think. In fact it brings back a curious memory from kindergarten (yes, I was a child once too, you know) when our teacher used to 'order' us to 'sleep' at our desks for five minutes a day.

The only practical thing I learnt from the exercise was how to pretend to sleep - in fact I became something of an expert at that, even if the real thing remains only a very occasional luxury (growing more occasional the older I get).

But unless you're a hypnotist - or for that matter, a crashing bore - you can't force someone to sleep, any more than you can force them to find what you say interesting.

So the law itself works through a sort of reverse principle. Rather than force people to 'reflect' on the electoral campaign, it simply forces other people to shut up about their own reflections... on the grounds that these may conceivably 'influence' other people's voting intentions.

And way you choose to look at that scenario, it comes across as ridiculous. Just like a Gary Larson cartoon, in fact.... which approaches a real situation from such bizarre and otherworldly perspective, that you find yourself uncertain whether the whole thing is not, in fact, just a joke that we've all taken too seriously for too long.

But at the same time - also just like a Gary Larson cartoon, now that I think about it - it still makes considerable sense in spite of its sheer illogicality. The law in question was not actually devised with the 'social netoworks' in mind. I can't say with any certainty whether it was directly inspired by the notorious Terinu case of 1929 [note: the first I heard of that case, what I understood was 'Pierino'... and I remember thinking: what the hell could Alvaro Vitali possibly have to do with Maltese politics??] but it certainly dates back to those times.

Meanwhile I won't presume to explain the case to you myself - many will know it far better than I; and in any case this is a Sunday column, not an academic thesis on Maltese electoral history... so if the reference means absolutely nothing to do, I suggest you look it up on Wikipedia (or wherever).

Suffice it to say that the expression 'Terinati' is still in use today, to signify last-minute attempts to unfairly influence an election result through deception.

What I do know is that the law that may or may not have been inspired by Terinu, actually serves (or served) a very important purpose in our country... and while it now seems to us an odious and unnecessary restriction on the right to free speech (which by the way did not exist at all in 1929)... there was a time when it actually served the entirely legitimate purpose of protecting people from electoral fraud.

In today's context this simply no longer applies. To argue that (for instance) a single blogspot, or a single Facebook post, could conceivably impact the result of an entire election... after nine whole weeks of having political messages shouted at us from the rooftops, and blaring out from every channel and every news medium on the island (not to mention at every street corner of every town and village, everywhere)... I don't know, but I find the very idea completely bizarre and ridiculous.

But that is not to say that - after the same nine whole weeks of political mayhem and cacophony - the resulting silence is not entirely welcome. I don't know about you, but I was perhaps more deeply immersed in this campaign than most. I attended many of the daily meetings, I watched all the debates, I received all the SMSes, and I put up with all the online pressure and (occasionally) bile and venom, too. So last Thursday I actually found myself - not unlike a vampire, I suppose - counting the minutes to midnight.

Bearing all this in mind: is it so very, very much to ask, that - just out of simple courtesy and respect for others, if not for fear of actually disrupting some carefully laid voting intentions, or being arrested, or anything - we all just shut the F up for a single day?

Reflect on that, the next time the law orders you shut up and reflect.