Freedom of speech comes with responsibility

Once again, I find myself seeing something three ways at once. And it’s not because I’m wishy-washy. It’s because I think each view is true. Let me try to set the table …

I love the television adult cartoon “Family Guy.” It’s the dirty little secret of my sophomoric, razor-blade satirical way of often looking at the world. If it means anything, I often have a lot of fun looking at my own life through that same lens. For me, self-satire is an antidote for my penchant to take myself too seriously and to insist that others do, too.

Satire also is my frequent, preferred vehicle for getting at truth — political truth, cultural truth, social truth, just plain human truth. Even if the truth is simply the myriad ways that humans are regularly absurd, well, I think it’s a good thing to keep my own absurdity in front of me where I can keep an eye on it.

This is why I also love “The Daily Show” with John Stewart, the recently ended “Colbert Report,” and, in cycles, “Saturday Night Live.” Do you know the Aussie comedian Jim Jefferies? I just saw him skewer American gun culture from another culture’s point of view (http://bit.ly/1ys97sN). I thought it was more than funny; I thought it was brilliant.

But then, I’m convinced that only the truth is funny.

Religious satire is my favorite, probably because I think religion just begs to be satirized. Jesus is a frequent “guest” on “Family Guy.” Monty Python’s last film, “Life of Brian,” begins with the Magi visiting the wrong stable, the wrong nativity. Practically fell out of my seat laughing.

Having said all that, I’m just not sure yet whether I am Charlie (Je suis Charlie). It depends, I guess, on what you mean by that.

See, while artful satire can and does bring humor, perspective, humility, truth otherwise dodged, and, in some cases, even justice … well, to do so, it must flirt with just plain mean. Obscenely bad taste. Satire can cross the line and become its own flagrant injustice. Or, at minimum, unfairness.

About 14 out of 15 times, Seth McFarland and his writers (“Family Guy”) make me laugh out loud. About 1 in 15 times his crew makes me wince. Even offends me. Like recently, when Peter Griffin (main character buffoon) is reading a book about the late President John F. Kennedy. Peter finishes the book, looks up, and the right side of his head explodes.

I just don’t think I’ll ever be ready to laugh about the murder of a U.S. president. Nor do I think McFarland was, in that case, using satire to get at truth. It was just … mean. Kind of ugly.

This is the same reaction I had to a Charlie Hebdo cartoon of Muhammad, postured in prayer, naked, genitals dangling and a star on his anus, with the caption “A Star is Born.”

This isn’t satire. Satire is brighter than that. This is rather a deliberate mocking and degrading.

On the other hand …

How sad is a god as high-maintenance and disturbingly insecure as al-Qaida’s god? The god the Islamic State is working for? These folks make me remember the one time my youngest son shouted “I hate you!” to me. My boy was 6 years old.

Punish him? Hit him? Attack him? Shout back at him “I hate you, too”?

I looked at his retreating back with bemusement. A shake of my head. It never once occurred to me to personalize it. Yeah, like, when I need useful critical feedback about my life and character, I regularly inquire after 6-year-olds!

But, apparently your god gets his feelings hurt by roasts, cartoons and satire. And it’s up to you to defend that god’s honor. With what? Sacramental murder? This nurtures honor?

Trust me: God never needs us to defend his honor. He’s good. He’s God.

So, the “all ways” view I’m holding is simply this:

Yes, I believe in free speech. But just because we are talented enough to draw genitals or bellow the word $#@! in a recording studio doesn’t make us artists. Just because we’re “free” doesn’t mean we’re not responsible for how we use our freedom.

It’s possible for me to be disgusted by the murders in Paris — to call them the shameless evil that they are — and still feel uneasy and unsure whether I am Charlie.

Steven Kalas is a behavioral health consultant and counselor at Las Vegas Psychiatry and the author of “Human Matters: Wise and Witty Counsel on Relationships, Parenting, Grief and Doing the Right Thing” (Stephens Press). His columns appear on Sundays. Contact him at 702-227-4165 or skalas@reviewjournal.com.