The man was defending his family.
I’m sorry. I don’t like gay slurs, but Alec Baldwin did nothing wrong. Or rather, he did very little wrong. Baldwin recently exploded at a paparazzi photographer, a photographer who was frightening Baldwin’s wife Hilaria and infant daughter Carmen. Baldwin chased the man down and called him a sexually graphic gay slur. Now Baldwin’s MSNBC show has been suspended and the actor has retreated to the Hamptons, where he is no doubt undergoing re-education at the hands of our cultural elite. After about 8,000 apologies and a hefty donation to the Human Rights Campaign, Baldwin will continue to act. (Full disclosure: I’ve long been a fan.)
But Baldwin only did one thing wrong: he didn’t punch the photographer in question. Just a quick shot to the face, nothing more, nothing less.
America’s legal system, not to mention a couple generations of overly pampered perfect children – as well as the snark shield provided by the culture of Twitter – have paradoxically made us a both a more obnoxious and a more cowardly people. We’re loaded with more sarcasm, vulgarity and insults than ever in our culture, but refuse to defend those insults in person without a lawyer or policeman present. I myself am a photographer, and I’ve had a couple run-ins with security people in the past. But here is the tacit deal I have with the places I’m shooting and my innate sense of fair play: if I am in a situation where I am going to push limits a little, and maybe even sneak around to get the right shot, there may be some blowback. And I’ll accept the consequences, within reason. A few years ago I was in a rock club and I managed to sneak into the upper level near the rafters. I had an amazing view of the stage, got some shots, then I heard the six words every photographer dreads: How did you get in here? The dude wasn’t happy, and yes, he called me a few choice words and manhandled me before kicking me to the curb. I didn’t call for the police or indignantly demand that You Get Your Hands Off Of Me.
Sue the club? Send the bouncer to the thought police because he indicated that I partook in conjugal relations with blood relatives? You’re kidding, right? I was a man doing my job, and so was he. End of story.
In a normal world, the Baldwin imbroglio would have gone down as follows: a paparazzo spots Baldwin coming out of a coffee shop in New York. Baldwin’s wife and baby daughter are in Baldwin’s SUV. The photographer takes a few pictures of Baldwin, which Baldwin allows. Then the paparazzo moves to get some pictures of the wife and child, who are private citizens. Baldwin tells the man to back off, and when the man doesn’t, Baldwin hits him in the nose. Problem solved. And the discussion in the media would be about the trauma of a six month old child and her mother being swarmed by strangers with flashing cameras. We might even meditate on what is so wrong with us that we have such an insatiable demand for celebrity pictures. Why do we delight in tearing these people down?
Just to be perfectly clear: I am advocating violence. That is, I’m advocating a kind of controlled, limited violence. America might be a better place if we brought back the 30-second fist fight, this quick throwdown that quickly settles a dispute. I’m not talking about two inebriated sea lions Greco-Roman wrestling for twenty useless minutes at a football game or keg party. I’m also not talking about bullying of any sort, picking on someone weaker just for a sadistic thrill – in fact, the quick mano-a-mano has often been used to stop a bully. I’m talking about when something serious is on the line. Honor. Country. A man defending his family.
Alec Baldwin was defending his family. He doesn’t have anger issues. He doesn’t need rehabilitation. He has nothing to apologize for.
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