Devastated Cathy Wilcox fangirl is grieving because she is leaving

I am an unabashed Cathy Wilcox fan girl, so I was devastated to hear that she is leaving The Sydney Morning Herald after 37 years.
Earlier this year, I wrote my first ever letter to the editor of the Herald. Cathy spotted it and shared it on Twitter with the words, “As ever the letter writers bring the wisdom.” I wasn’t on Twitter, but someone sent me a screenshot.  It is something I will always treasure.
Her departure comes after a bruising period. The Australian Press Council ruled against Cathy over her “Grass roots” cartoon about calls for a royal commission into antisemitism, finding that the imagery could evoke an antisemitic trope. The Herald apologised for the hurt caused.
Cathy later spoke about what she feared that decision could mean for political cartooning. Her concern was that editors, faced with something provocative or controversial, may increasingly decide it is “simply not worth the trouble” to publish it.
Political cartoonists question power and expose contradictions. Sometimes people will disagree strongly with them. That argument is part of public debate. Cathy’s concern is what happens when editors become so wary of the consequences that the cartoon never gets published and the argument never begins.
After 37 years at the Herald, Cathy leaves an extraordinary body of work behind, and one very grateful fan girl with a screenshot she will treasure forever. See the blog post I wrote about her acknowledgment of my letter here

We Keep Arguing About Grace Tame and Ignore the Real Question

I have watched the commentary around Grace Tame spiral into familiar territory. Some defend her. Some attack her. Some wait for any misstep. The arguments become about slogans, tone, delivery.

Meanwhile, the original political decision sits largely untouched.

Reading through the comments on a right-leaning news site, I came across a thoughtful defence of her right to speak. It reminded me that human rights advocacy does not vanish because someone disagrees with the politics of the moment. Courage is not conditional.

I would have preferred that a particular slogan not be used. It distracted from the substance. Yet focusing only on the slogan misses the larger question.

What was the judgement behind inviting the Israeli president at this time?

Leadership is not only about protocol. It is about reading the room. It is about understanding how divided the public mood already is. It is about recognising when symbolism inflames rather than steadies.

We can debate Grace Tame’s language for days. That is easy. The harder and more necessary question concerns political judgement at the top.

If we are serious about social cohesion, that is where attention belongs.

The Kath and Kim meme that turned into a sharp little lesson in public disagreements.

Image Source Facebook

I shared this Kath & Kim meme on Facebook as a reminder. It turned into a sharp little lesson in public disagreements.

It’s doing what satire does best. Pointing at a pattern and trusting people to recognise it. Old ideas come back. The language changes. The instincts don’t.

One response I received took it as a literal claim, as if I were saying these moments in history are the same thing. That reaction lingered longer than the disagreement itself.

Public disagreements often split at a deeper point than the issue being argued.

It made me think about how differently people respond when something presses on identity.

Some people can sit with that pressure. They adjust their view. They accept that history leaves fingerprints on the present. Connections don’t feel dangerous to them.

Others move quickly to shut it down. The first move is separation. These things have nothing to do with each other. End of discussion.

That explanation doesn’t fit what I’m seeing. What feels more relevant is how comfortable people are with revising a view.

Ideas don’t disappear. They travel through history, change names, and slowly get normalised.

If you’re able to admit error, patterns become visible. You expect ideas to repeat, to reappear with better branding, to sound more reasonable the second time around.

People who can revise a view tend to treat history as something you learn from.

If that admission feels too costly, history stays boxed up. Each event stands alone. Calling things “unrelated” keeps the present uncomplicated.

What this exchange clarified for me was that we weren’t arguing about the meme. We were talking past each other. One response was about continuity. The other was about containment.

The difference shows up clearly in conversations like this.

That realisation took the edge off.

It reminded me that people arrive at conversations with different limits, different stakes, and different reasons for holding the line where they do.

How do societies notice patterns early if they refuse to look at where ideas come from?

Often the most telling part is not what someone objects to, but what they refuse to connect.