Now that the discussion about Serena Williams' defeat by Naomi Osaka and Mark Knight's cartoon has faded, it may be worth reflecting more generally about cartoons and what we might expect from them. They belong to a long tradition of licensed comment on social and political behaviour.
The tradition of court jesters licensed to criticise the king exists in many cultures. It is part of a broader tolerance of satirical writing in which the foibles and sins of the great can be safely criticised. The Shakespearian fools are typical in representing the view of the common man as he speaks truth to power.
Printed cartoons, popular since the 18th century, stand in this tradition. They focus on current events, usually representing the perceived weak against the strong. Of course, who are the weak and who are the strong is often disputed: cartoonists' classifications often represent their own view or that of their paymasters. Cartoons are a form of social criticism expressed in a way that licenses and ritualises offensiveness, so softening it. The political targets of cartoons generally accept them uncomplainingly and are thought precious if they do complain.
When judging cartoons we need to keep in mind this transgressive tradition, and attend both to the message that they contain and to the way that they convey it. The point that Knight wanted to make is evident. His cartoon appeared after the focus of public conversation had moved from anger at the disrespect paid to Osaka by Williams' home crowd to anger at the umpire's treatment of Williams.
She had been penalised for expressions of anger and attributed the harshness of the penalties to her gender. The cartoon excoriated the change of focus by having the umpire ask the young winner, 'Can't you just let her win?' Whatever the merits of the message, it stands in the tradition of supporting the underdog against the more powerful.
Most critics of the cartoon, however, protested against the way Williams was represented. That also needs to be set within the cartoon tradition. Political cartoonists necessarily caricature their subjects freely. In a few brushstrokes they have to identify them, represent their emotions and fit them to the part that they play in the cartoon.
They usually identify them by exaggerating stereotypical traits: ethnic characteristics, age, hairstyle, pastimes, picaresque actions and dress, etc. They do not identify them by personal qualities but by their membership of groups which are also caricatured.
"The response to the cartoon suggests that we should all reflect on the stereotypes we use to describe people."
In typical cartoons, for example, Tony Abbott is represented in his speedos, marking him as belonging to middle aged blokes who are preoccupied with their bodies. Bronwyn Bishop was identified by her hair, and implicitly with North Shore matrons. Physical traits, too, are exaggerated — Abbott is represented with a duck like mouth, Peter Dutton by a potato face. Goodies and baddies are also identified, if not by black or white hats, by their expression and demeanour. When an immigration minister is represented with people on Manus Island, he will usually be standing aggressively in the foreground, and they will be shrinking helplessly in the background.
In Knight's cartoon, Williams is represented as large, black and enraged. Her features are exaggerated. In the background Osaka stands politely and straight before the umpire, dark skinned in comparison with him. No doubt is left about who are the goodies and baddies, the weak and the strong.
The question raised by Knight's cartoon concerns the propriety of ethnic and racial stereotypes. They have always been central to cartoons as a form of identification. Nineteenth century French cartoons of Jesuits depict them with the hooked noses used to depict Jews, with a biretta replacing the yarmulke. The stereotype was demeaning, although it has become a source of Jesuit pride to have been identified with a maligned people. Russians and Chinese are still often portrayed with the exaggerated Slavic and oriental features that belong to a long tradition.
The question raised by Knight's cartoon is whether such identification by racial stereotypes is ever acceptable. In the case of Knight's cartoon, that question is made more complex by another feature of cartoons. They draw not only from stereotypes but also from photographs.
The media published an extraordinary image of Williams in the heat of debate with the umpire. Head and shoulders thrust forward she is afire with rage. The facial image in Knight's cartoon catches, even while distorting, the energy of that rage. His representation of Osaka, too, was criticised for representing her with blonde hair. Photographs of her display blonde tips on her hair. The cartoon images are not pure stereotypes.
What to make of all this? The response to the cartoon suggests that we should all reflect on the stereotypes we use to describe people. Cartoonists would rightly hesitate now to use older stereotypes to describe Jewish people. The murderous results of the prejudice that such representations fed and respect for Jewish people today make them unacceptable. The stereotypes of black people, too, are associated with a history of racial discrimination and contempt. These stereotypes should also disappear.
This is not a matter of free speech. No one is stopping people from drawing, criticising and defending cartoons. They are a special case. In the tradition, cartoonists enjoy freedom by grace and not by right. They are by nature transgressive and that quality has been prized as of social benefit. Their excesses limit regal excesses. Cartoonists should be cut some slack. But there are some places they should not want to go.
Andrew Hamilton is consulting editor of Eureka Street.
Main image: Serena Williams argues with referee Brian Earley during her Women's Singles finals match against Naomi Osaka on day 13 of the 2018 US Open at the USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Center on 8 September 2018. (Jaime Lawson/Getty Images for USTA)